Little Wonders
by Silent Amethyst
Summary: Time...life, will forever keep going, without hindrance, without acknowledgment toward our desire for it to stop and slow down. We can only gather these memories as they come and remember them. 100 shots, mainly Ed/Win.
1. Eyes

**Theme 37- Eyes**

It was amazing that a simple sphere of jelly-like fluid that was one inch in diameter served as a bridge between self and surroundings, that it was able to absorb light fragments that would then be sent to the brain and in turn allowed for possibly the most magnificent and awing means of observation out of the five human senses: sight.

With eyes you can see everything, what you admire and what you despise, what you love and what you hate, what you trust and what you fear. For instance, she could see her finished handiwork in all its metallic glory, ready to be put under application and she could see that same work of art come back to her torn to bits and held together by mere wires and cables. She could see her friends and family, happy and healthy, and she could see the one who had murdered her parents, thus devastating her family life forever. She could see the back if _him_ shielding her from harms way and know that no matter what he would protect her, and she could also see him bloodied and broken and wonder just how close she had come to losing him forever. Even when you were asleep you could see. Because of rapid eye movement, you can see your greatest dreams or your worst nightmares.

But the usefulness of eyes is not limited to the absorbing of information. By many it is referred to as 'the window into the soul'. Often times they express more than is being said, therefore making the information they portray more reliable than any words could. Through the eyes is where anger, sadness, happiness, anxiety, disbelief, graciousness, compassion, hatred, skepticism and dozens more of emotions are revealed, be it singularly or simultaneously. It is through the eyes that we see the truth.

However, the beauty of the eyes isn't as appreciated in their ability to give and receive a vast amount of information as in the color of their irises. They come in a variety: brown, black, blue, green… and with them come varying shades and mixtures. So many, in fact, that unless identical twins, no two people in the world have the exact same color. And as favoritism for a certain color is more often than not closely tied to that of the person holding them, it is safe to say that one would be hard-pressed in finding someone else with the desirable hue.

In Winry's case, her favorite was gold. Molten gold like the setting sun.

But as Winry stood on the porch, blue eyes glittering like the ocean in the moonlight, she couldn't help but think that the color gold, no matter the shade, was very beautiful, for only a few feet below her, two pairs of golden eyes were staring back up at her.

Not one pair and a set of white, lifeless light peering through empty holes. Not anymore.

Staring up at her expectantly were Edward's gleeful, cockily satisfied eyes of molten gold and right beside him, Alphonse's cheerful and soft golden whiskey.

They were both back home. They were whole. They had succeeded.

That's what she saw with her eyes.

And as Winry jumped the few steps to finally, honestly, welcome the brothers' home, she didn't think she had ever seen anything quite so wonderful.

**AN: Yea! One down, ninety nine to go!**

**Yes, I've decided to take up the one hundred themes challenge. I've read a lot of them myself and decided, 'what the hey'. So here I am now. Should be fun and maybe it'll get me to update more often than I have in the last year ;D (my goal is at least once a week). **

**Reviews are appreciated! The encouragement helps a lot, trust me if you don't know yourself.**

**Thanx 4 reading! **


	2. Seeking Solace

**Theme 18- Under**

For as long as she could remember, Winry had always been afraid of storms.

And this wasn't just the typical rainstorm that made tremors runs down her spine. It was thunderstorms. The kind that turned the sky an ashy gray, nearly black, where the rain would relentlessly beat against the roof and walls and the wind would rattle the windows, where bright flashes would light up even the darkest corner and loud drum rolls would echo across the countryside.

During the daytime when everyone was awake the storms were considerably less unnerving. It was the ones that occurred at nighttime, when she was the only person awake in the house, all alone, that they scared her the most.

When Winry was four, she would often seek out her parents to soothe her qualms. With little hesitation she would scurry down the hallway, nearly jumping out of her skin at every creak and squeal emitted from the old house, and knock on their bedroom door, jumping impatiently on her toes for her mother or father to open it and allow her entrance. They would welcome her inside and usher her into the bed between them, where she would curl up under the covers and allow the peace of mind that came from knowing she was safe under her parent's protection to lull her to sleep.

When Winry was fourteen, that security was no longer an option for her. And even if it had been, crawling into bed with her mom and dad as a teen would have been unorthodox. Instead, she would retreat downstairs into the basement with Den in tow and work on her latest automail project. After all, if she wasn't going to sleep she might as well make the best use of her time, and under the house, underground where the severity of the storm above was drastically stifled was the best place to do so.

When Winry was twenty four, the prickling need to get out of bed and distract her mind from the raging storm outside was no longer an issue. Now her safe haven was already under the covers with her. All she had to do was roll over and curl up against the pool of warmth that was steadfastly within her reach, before strong arms would wrap around her and hold her close for the remainder of the night.

And the comfort found nestled under Edward's embrace, Winry decided with a smile, was all she would ever need from then on.

**AN- Woohoo! Just over an hour and I finished number three! But that's probably because I had plenty of opportunity to figure out how I wanted to write this when I couldn't sleep last night. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed and thanks all of you who have reviewed. I really appriciate it.**


	3. Pain

**Theme 88- Pain**

"Ed, are you okay?"

The eleven year old grimaced, clutching at his right shoulder. Just a few moments ago it had slammed against the wall, aggravating the sensitive area where his arm was attached to port. Not to mention his right ankle was throbbing. He forced his eyes open to see Winry's worried blue ones.

"I'm fine." He answered gruffly, trying to push himself back up to his feet.

She grabbed his arm, holding him down. "You don't look it. And you aren't going anywhere with your ankle swollen and leg bent up like that." Winry deadpanned, standing up. "I'm going to grab some tools to fix your leg. Don't go anywhere."

"Well apparently I can't anyway." Ed mumbled as she ran down the stairs, letting his hand fall from his shoulder, adjusting himself so that his back was to the wall and staring up at the ceiling.

It had only been a month since he started learning to walk again. During the first week it seemed he had been getting no where…literally. Those first days had consisted of trying to stand up without having to hold on to anything and exercises to adjust the remainder of the severed limb to the extra weight it would have to carry. Needless to say, it was very frustrating. But by the end of the third week he was able to stumble around the house with assistance.

Ed had been told he was progressing fairly well considering his determination to finish rehab in less than a year, but that he was still too unstable to be hobbling around without Al, Winry, or Pinako's guidance.

Of course, he didn't listen.

Being true to his self-confident and stubborn personality—and the fact he was getting sick of everyone babying him— Ed decided that he could carry himself the few steps down the hallway to the bathroom without anybody's help. It didn't matter that at least once every time he practiced walking before he'd trip or something in his leg malfunction.

This time it had been the latter. In his haste his knee had locked up mid-stride and sent him crashing to the floor.

Now he'd be lucky if he got a moments peace since he was bound to be under 24/7 watch so that he wouldn't attempt sneaking out on his own again.

The touch of something cool and wet against his swelling ankle brought Ed's attention back to the present and his eyes fell on Winry who was now with her toolbox and holding an ice compress to his sprained joint.

"Here, hold this so I can fix your leg." She sounded annoyed.

He did so, and she moved over to start fiddling with his metal appendage. He watched her quietly.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Winry said suddenly. "Granny told you specifically not to get out of bed unless one of us was there to help you and yet you go and do it anyway. What was so important you had to go traipsing around alone to do, huh?" she set her stern azure gaze on him.

Ed frowned. "I was going to the bathroom." he twitched uncomfortably. "And I still need to, so could you stop yakking and finish up?"

She held her gaze for a moment longer before conceding. "Seriously, though. You need to start getting over your arrogant self and admit it when you need help. If you don't you aren't going to get very far."

"I don't need any help! I would've been just fine if this stupid leg didn't freeze up on me." Ed declared indignantly, flexing the leg Winry had just finished fixing for emphasis.

As made obvious by the livid glare Winry was fixating on him, he had once again held true to his temperament and let his mouth precede himself.

"Like hell you don't need help! If it weren't for that 'stupid leg' that _I_ made you you'd still be wallowing around in a wheelchair feeling sorry for yourself!"

Before he had a chance to come back with a retort Winry clutched the wrench in her hand—one that he remembered getting her for her birthday a few years ago—and brought it swiftly down on his head.

As the world around him swirled and his vision became blotchy, Ed had a bad feeling this wouldn't be the last time his stupidity inflicted more pain on him than it was worth.

**AN- Well, I like this one, but I'll wait and see what everyone else thinks. **

**This will be the last update for about a week and a half. I'm going to be on a trip with my family and thus be computer-less. But I'll be writing in a notebook in my spare time, so hopefully I'll have something as soon as I come back.**

**Please review!**

_**Silenthyst**_


	4. Keeping a Secret

**What They Don't Know**

Having spent the majority of her short life in Xing, Mei Chang was only acutely familiar with western culture. The lifestyle and morals and traditions of the vast expanse of land beyond the eastern desert were a foreign concept to her. It still astounded her how significantly the east differentiated from west, despite have crossed dry sandy region between the two worlds multiple occasions and for stretched out periods of time. Not once had she failed to learn something new in her travels, and this time was no different.

Mei was sure that this particular western tradition was by far the most absurd…

Squeaking of springs and a distressed moan resounded through the wall.

… And unpleasant.

"_It's just some quirky tradition based off some stupid superstition no one takes seriously these days." Winry stated disdainfully as she a Mei were ushered away from the dining room of the hotel lobby by the likes of Gracia and Riza as well as a few others. "For a whole day before the wedding the bride and groom aren't allowed to see each other." A minute pause. "I don't like it. I mean, compared to other times it seems ridiculous and pathetic that I'm fretting over being away from Ed for just a day, but still…"_

"_Well, then why are you going along with it?" Mei asked curiously._

"_Cause it will make everyone else happy if I play along." Winry sighed, forcing a smile._

Mei frowned. That wasn't right. This was supposed to be Winry's time to be happy, not everyone else. Of course, for the entirety of the day she had put up face and played along, but now that it was after midnight and everyone was settled in and asleep in the apartment Gracia had opened up to the small party of women, the mask had slipped away. The anxiety and excitement for the day to come was surely taking its toll on Winry, as well as the fact they were all in beds other than their own. Of all people, Mei understood that there was a certain comfort to be had sleeping in the familiarity of your own home. And now she was being robbed of the one person that Mei could only assume had been separated from her enough to last a lifetime.

More squeaks and moans reached her keen ears.

If Winry were to enjoy her day fully, she was going to need rest. No one could completely enjoy themselves when there was a cloud of lethargy hanging over them. Something needed to be done to fix that.

Quietly slipping out from under her blanket on the couch, Mei stealthily stepped over to the phone. It was time to make a call to the hotel.

Mei had been skimming through a magazine left on the coffee table when three quiet raps interrupted her. In the half hour that had passed since she hung up the phone the restless noises emanating from Winry's room had not ceased, regularly making their presence known every five to ten minutes. She quickly got up and answered the door.

"Took you long enough." She whispered affably, side-stepping the blonde as he pushed his way inside.

"Excuse me for it being a little difficult getting a cab in the middle of the night." Edward spared her a sharp glance before looking about the living area. His countenance seemed rather unruly, with his hair messily pulled back and worn slacks that were likely picked up from the floor and hastily thrown on with a trench coat topping off the ensemble. "Where is she?"

Mei shook her head bemusedly. "Right this way." She motioned him to follow her. "Remember, your not staying. Only until she falls asleep. I don't want to get in trouble for doing this."

"I know." he said seriously, not in the mood for games. "Do you really think I feel like being shot at by the lieutenant first thing in the morning?"

"Here it is." She stopped in front of the door, ignoring the question. Enough had been said already anyway. They didn't want to wake anyone with their talking.

Ed stepped forward and turned the knob before he stopped, relaxed his tense shoulders and sighed, turning his head slightly in her direction. "Thanks… for thinking about Winry I mean." Mei smiled and nodded her acceptance, and without another word he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.

"Wha… who is it—Ed?"

"Shh. Yeah."

"What are you doing here?"

"Heard you were having trouble getting to sleep, that's what."

"Who…?"

"Bean girl."

Mei bristled from outside the door. If not for the circumstances she would have marched in there and given him what for calling her that.

"Oh."

"Now move over. I can't be here all night."

There was a light rustling and more squeaking of the springs as Mei retreated back to the couch. She smiled satisfactorily as she switched off the lamp and slipped back under the blankets that had been provided her.

She may have broken tradition with her actions, no matter how seriously it was taken, but Mei held no regrets. In her mind the happiness of her friends was of more priority than some silly custom. And even if it were such a big deal, it wasn't like anybody was going to know what she had done. The arrangements that had been made that night would remain a secret between the three people taking part in it, and nobody more.

What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them, after all.

* * *

_I'm back! ... Obviously._

_So this was inspired by the beginning of "I'll Wait for You" by .one, although it has no relation whatsoever to the story. Just kind of sparked my imagination. If in fact you do believe in the particular tradition targeted here I meant no offense or anything. Sorry if I did. And I realize I may have been a little out of character with Winry but I tried to keep that to a minimum and hey, it was necessary to accomplish this._

_Regularity for updates for this fic is probably going to be rare (although I will try) in the coming weeks... maybe months. Not only does school start for me in a week and a half (boo!) but I've got two big projects (stories) underway that I'm hoping to get posted within the next month or so. _

_Thanks for reading and please review! I like knowing what you think and it's encouraging too._

_~ Silenthyst  
_


	5. All That I Have

**Kay, I'm kinda switching gears with this one here. Instead of following the manga this one is going to follow the first series. It's set a few years after the movie and… well you can figure the rest out for yourself. Don't want to spoil it… if there's anything to spoil.**

**Song used is Secrets by OneRepublic... which I do not own while on the subject, I do not own FMA either. Who knows how much it would be ruined if I did anyway.  
**

**Enjoy!**

**~ Silent Resolution ~**

Edward brought his fist up to the wooden door, hesitating just before it. It felt so weird. He had never knocked on this door before. Never had to; he was always a welcome guest. But now it was late at night and he wasn't expected. According to the woman living behind that weak barrier she had seen the likes of him for the last time five years ago.

Five years. That was a long time. So much could have changed and he didn't know if he was prepared to face them. He was nervous. He glanced to his left, to his younger brother who only nodded and smiled encouragingly.

He swallowed, and then metal connected with wood in four resounding raps.

_Oh, got not reason, got not shame_

_Got no family I can blame_

The anxiety of the proceeding moments seemed to be eating away at him. What if they weren't welcome? What if they had been misinformed, and she didn't even live here anymore? What if she had moved on with her life and no longer needed them...or wanted them? On their way they had caught wind that granny had passed away a couple years ago; what if she was angry at them for leaving her alone? What if she didn't… couldn't forgive _him_ for all the crap he had put her through all these years? What if, what if, what if…?

Edward shoved his hands into his coat pockets just as a light switched on inside. Then the soft clicks of locks being unlatched.

The knob turned and the door swung open viciously.

He froze in place. This was it.

_Just don't let me disappear_

_I'ma tell you everything_

"Who's there?" she cried rashly, her teeth bared and wrench held high in the air ready to swing unmercifully at any unwanted intruder.

Time seemed to stop as gold and sapphire met.

One by one her defenses collapsed. Her eyes widened in wonder, glancing briefly to his brother before landing back on him. Her mouth hung loosely open, gaping as she tried to say something but was incapable of producing the proper words. Then, and much to Edward's relief, her arm dropped ungracefully back to her side, bouncing off her leg as it hung limply from her suddenly sagging shoulders.

He felt stupid. In that one moment it seemed there was so much to say and nothing to say at all. All the time he had spent planning for this moment on the way here was futile as every intelligent thought fled his numb mind. It took all he had just to produce a small, bashful smile and the two syllables that barely managed to escape his lips.

"Hey, Win."

_So tell me what you want to hear_

_Something that were like those years_

She stuttered. "Is that…are you… really back?"

He could only muster up a nod.

Winry's look of wonder was replaced by a frown as she slowly stepped toward him, never breaking eye contact. He couldn't help but be a little fearful and struggled not to take a step back. After all, she looked angry and was still holding onto her wrench. There had to be less than ten centimeters between them when she finally stopped and… just stood there.

She dropped the wrench.

"Idiot…"

Then she slapped him across the face.

"…Don't ever leave me like that again!" And before he could fully comprehend what was going on, she had wrapped her arms tightly around him and was crying into his shoulder.

His mouth gaped open, unsure of what to say. Words had never been his forte after all. If he had a clue as to what she wanted to hear from him, his predicament would be much easier. He almost wished she whacked him with that wrench; at least then there would be some sense of normalcy to his return.

_I've left her waiting for so long..._ the thought whisked through his mind.

At least there was one thing he knew he could say and never be wrong for it. Something he hardly said enough but meant sincerely every time.

"I'm sorry." He said into her hair, finally moving his arms to place them around her.

She hiccuped and nodded, turning her head under his chin so her voice wouldn't be muffled. "Jus…just promise me something will you?"

He nodded his assent. There would be no more secrets, no more lies, no more hiding from her like he had years before. He would tell her everything if she asked him to, now; give her everything she wanted from him.

That was a promise.

_Sick of all the insincere_

_So I'm gonna give all me secrets away_

"Do…don't keep me waiting anymore… just stay."

He nodded. "I'm not going anywhere. This is the last time I'm coming home."

She gave a choked laugh, and pulled back enough to look at him, gliding one of her hands along the side of his face. There were fresh streaks streaming down her cheeks but she was smiling. "Good." Was all she said before pressing her lips to his.

Yes, his sidetracked thoughts concluded, after all the grief he had put her through, she deserved nothing less than all he had left to give.

_This time, don't need another perfect line_

_Don't care if critics never jump the line_

_I'm gonna give all my secrets away_

_

* * *

_

**I heard this song and I had to do something with it, it just seemed so fitting for the moment. But now that I look back at it I'm wondering if it would be better off without the lyrics. Hmm... I'll just leave it as it is. And it's probably obvious I didn't use the whole song, just the part at the end. It was the easiest to work with without making the whole theme nine pages long. **

**Don't know when I'll update this again. Between a summer assignment I'm rushing to finish and a one-shot I've got under way and would like to finish before I start school again, as well as the multi-chapter stories I'm also trying to get to, I really don't. **

**Anyway...**** thanks for the reviews! **

**Until next time!**

**_~Silenthyst_  
**


	6. Annoyance

***~ A Little Appreciation ~***

Winry loved to bake.

Cleaning up the mess? Not so much.

Even if she began with the resolve to keep things reasonably neat and clean, there would always be a mess. Flour, no matter what tactics used to transport it from one container to another, got into every nook and cranny there was to be found. To make one tasty pastry you need three bowls to get the job done properly. Every measuring spoon and cup had to be used to keep the proper ratios; there was no guesstimating. And then there were all the other little spills and splatters that were scattered across the kitchen.

When all was said and done and the pie was in the oven, Winry would take a moment to look over the kitchen and groan. Sometimes she would wonder if the time and effort it took was even worth it. Being a mechanic, Winry no doubt was aware of the benefits of precision, accuracy, and hard work. But there was a world of difference between building automail and making dessert. Desserts were a delectable treat, not a necessity. The limbs she built for her clients sometimes meant the difference between having a livelihood and not. So the time and effort it took to make them wasn't in vain.

Winry sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping as she scrubbed at a bowl in the soapy dishwater.

"Something smells good. Is that apple pie?"

She briefly looked over her shoulder to see Edward standing in the doorway, looking adequately pleased and excited at the prospect of dessert after dinner tonight. She rinsed off the bowl and set it aside on the towel. "Yea, it is." She said tiredly, her annoyance further intrigued.

That was another thing. Whenever she made apple pie, she would only get one piece, maybe two pieces if she were lucky, before it was all gone. Sure, it was nice to see that her talents were appreciated by contented sighs and full stomachs, but she would like to reap the benefits of her handiwork too. That was near impossible when it was all but inhaled in a day's time by the bottomless pit that was standing a few paces behind her.

_Ten dishes down, fifty more to go. _She thought bitterly_. And there's still the counter to wipe down._

Nearly yanking another bowl from the pile, Winry began to scour it furiously, just barely managing not to mutter irritably under her breath.

She froze when a hand reached out from behind her, gently grabbing her wrist.

"Take it easy, you're gonna scrape the paint off it you scrub any harder."

She felt Edward's breath trail down her neck, and took a deep breath to stifle a shiver, her irritation suddenly dwindling as she carefully stared straight ahead. How had he gotten so close without her noticing?

"Let me finish." He grabbed the sponge from her hand and guided her away from the sink.

Winry blinked, staring at him as he rolled up his sleeves. "Huh?"

"You're tired, go take it easy. I'll finish up in here."

"I…"

"Just go will ya?" he pushed, seeming to be both annoyed and amused by her hesitance. "Geez, woman, you work too hard. Let somebody else do something around here."

She opened her mouth to argue but he had already turned his back on her. "O—okay." She untied the apron and laid it over the chair and yawned. Maybe a little nap wouldn't hurt…

She stopped halfway out of the kitchen to look back. "Make sure to take the pie out in twenty minutes to cool."

Edward nodded, not bothering to look back at her. "Okay."

Winry smiled.

It was amazing how just a little show of heartfelt appreciation for her hard work could make things all better.

"*"*"*"*"*"

Yay, finally updated! Sorry it took so long.

Just something random and cute that popped into my head while doing the dishes…ironically.

Hope you enjoyed.

_~ Silenthyst_


	7. Memory

_I don't have a lot of homework, and yet it still takes me forever to update *huff*. Well, anyway…_

_I'm sure that at least some of you noticed a few chapters ago… the eighth one to be exact, I briefly mentioned Al's presence and then forgot about him—so sorry! Well, this one's going to make up for it. _

_Thanks for all the reviews, especially mshaly for taking the time to comment on every chapter. I really appreciated it!_

_Enjoy!_

**~ All For You ~**

Al quietly stood by watching the exchange between his brother and best friend. Even though momentarily forgotten by them, he felt no animosity or jealousy. It just was not in him to feel such a way, especially when it came to them or their relationship. He had accepted long ago that there were just some things that he had no place or say in, and this reunion was on of those times.

The fight to find a way back home had not originated with him. In all honestly, while Al would admit that he would miss the familiarity of their own world and the people that resided there, he was happy enough just being with his brother. To him, the trade wasn't much of a sacrifice at all. He held no regrets toward the decision he had made.

He couldn't say the same for Edward, though; no matter how much he would deny it…

At least until the day they crossed paths with the one Winré Rockwell.

Being the ever observant and knowing brother that he was, Al was well aware that it was a lot harder for his brother to live with the selfless decision he'd made than he let on. He could see it every time they saw a familiar face, or on those rare occasions when there was little to do and too much time to think.

But that one encounter with their dear friend's counterpart had resulted in a much stronger reaction, one that couldn't be easily turned over. The regrets that Edward had usually kept carefully guarded and suppressed deep within painfully came to surface with her appearance. But because of it, a newfound motivation, a deep-rooted desire, and a stubborn determination to find a way back home… to Winry, had been birthed.

Al couldn't deny having been surprised by the sudden turn of events. After all, three years with no more than twenty words spoken on matters of the past could easily allude anyone into believing that perhaps things weren't as bad as you made them out to be.

Later on he realized he was mildly annoyed as well, for this wasn't the first time he had fallen for his older sibling's talent of leading on false pretenses against his better judgment. But remembering the few words that shattered that illusion he had been lured into led him to forget all about that and focus on the new task at hand.

"_I made a promise that when everything was over we'd go back home. I promised Winry that. It's been three frickken years since we stranded ourselves here, and I haven't even tried to do a damn thing to get back." He made a disgusted grimace as he stared down at the water sloshing against the ferry as they crossed the English Channel. But it was only seconds later that he turned around with that look of fiery determination that was just as equally familiar. _

"_I know it's a long stretch and it won't be easy, but I can't break that promise anymore…I can't keep her waiting any longer than I already have."_

So began the long, restless days and nights of studying and note-taking, missed meals, hand-cramps, headaches, and numerous failed attempts. But they didn't let those deter them, and twenty months later, they finally did it.

And now here they were.

All _because of Winry..._

All because his brother wanted to keep his promise _for Winry_.

No, this one moment wasn't meant for Al at all. This wasn't his reward to receive. He had already had his turn three years ago. It was Edward's turn to finally attain his own. He could wait a little longer for his welcome home, he wasn't selfish…

"Hey, Al."

He shook his head, breaking from his reverie, to see Winry holding out a free arm invitingly in his direction, the other one still wrapped around Edward. She motioned with a nod of her head for him to come over.

A little patience made the memory so much sweeter anyway.

***"*"*"*"***

_Yes, very sweet isn't it, no? _

_Thanks for reading and please review. _

_~Silenthyst_


	8. Drink

_**So sorry I took so long! I promise the next one won't take hardly as long, promise.**_

_**In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little something.**_

***"*"*"*"*"***

**Something New**

Slim fingers drummed rhythmically on the wooden table top. A hand reached out to push forward a small glass sitting innocently a few inches away.

A pair of eyes narrowed venomously at the innocent glass before turning the glower to the blonde across the way. Arms crossed with childish defiance.

"This is stupid."

"Yes, it is."

A derisive snort was the response. "Then why are you wasting your time?"

"Because it's necessary." She easily responded, remaining uncannily calm. Winry's fingers stopped dancing, curling up before laying flat on the table. "Look, Ed, it's not even the same thing. It's completely different. The only thing it has in common is the color and it's still just as good for you."

Edward turned his face away, tilting it up in a defiant, snobbish manner. "How do I know your not lying?"

"There were no cows involved…completely dairy free, I promise." She assured. "Even ask granny. She'll tell you I spent extra just to buy this stuff for you."

"Kind of stupid don't you think to buy something you're not even sure will be drank. Could've bought a few more screws or something instead…" he shrugged. "Then again what do I care if a quart of milk goes to waste? The less of that vile stuff the better..."

"It's _soy_milk…"

"_So?_"

"There's a difference. It comes from a bean, not an animal."

"And that makes it _so_ much better." Ed raised his arms exaggeratedly around him before letting them fall back in place, once again landing his stubborn gaze on the girl across from him. "Let's discreetly insult people on their lack of height by the fact our product comes from a _bean_ that will supposedly make them taller. I think not." He shook his head once with finality. "Sorry, but there is no way in hell that you are making me drink that stuff."

Winry covered her face with her hands and let out a heavy sigh. She had been hoping that it would be easier to convince him to test the new beverage, that he wouldn't be insufferably impartial to it just because it was still, technically, milk. But it seemed her hopes were for naught. She brought down her hands to her lap and offered the boy her own determined stare, made icy by her deep blue eyes.

"You _will_ drink it."

"You can't make me."

That was the wrong thing to say.

In the next instant, Winry was waving her trusty wrench in front of him, grinning impishly as he flinched and scooted the chair away anxiously. With the utmost care she laid the instrument down on the table right next to the glass of milk.

"I'm going to give you two options." She held up two fingers and put one down. "Option one: you can pick that glass up and drink the milk that I _graciously_ bought for you of your own free will. Or option two:" and she nodded at the wrench. "I will use that to remove your arm and leg and forcibly make you drink it myself.

"Your choice." she finished cordially with a shrug, sitting back and crossing her arms in mimicry of her best friend's current position.

Ed's mouth gaped open slightly before he closed it into a frown. He narrowed his eyes challengingly. "You wouldn't."

Winry just smiled wider. She didn't need to tell him what he already knew.

"That's not fair!" he cried indignantly. "Re-installment hurts, you know that! How's that justified?"

"I know it does." She agreed unsympathetically. "But then maybe that will serve as incentive not to fight against me again, hmm?" she pointed at the glass sitting between them. "Now are you going to drink that or not?"

His lips pressed together into a deep scowl, disgusted by and displeased with what he was being forced to do. What he knew he had to do or else suffer even more than necessary. There was no indecision in his eyes, only deep rooted reluctance. She could understand that may take a while to get past so she allowed him his few moments to wallow.

…Just as long as he didn't take _too_ long. She didn't have all day, after all.

Finally, he reached out for the glass and brought it closer. He grimaced down at it, muttering something incoherent about damn women and making him suffer before throwing his head back and draining the glass of all its white liquid contents.

Winry smiled triumphantly.

Ed slammed the empty cup down with enough force to make the table vibrate, the fragile glass remaining almost surprisingly intact. He stared straight at her, expression unreadable.

_Had history just been made? Or was it just impossible for Edward to like any kind of milk, period?_ The comical thought crossed her mind as she watched him. She quirked an eyebrow amusedly and leaned forward. "So?"

He swallowed the aftertaste. "It's…" he hesitated, face expressing grudging acceptance. "…not bad."

Winry chuckled. "See? You never know if you like something 'til you try it..."

"Hey, I said it's not bad. Not that I like it. It's still milk. I don't care if it comes from a filthy cow or not."

She just shook her head, guessing some things just couldn't be changed. But at least she had accomplished what she had set out to do. She stood up and grabbed the empty glass and her wrench from the table, stashing the latter back into her pocket before ruffling the top his head and messing up his bangs.

"Well, you still did a good job. I'm very proud of you." Winry cooed as Ed shook his head and swiped her offending hand away.

"Will you stop it? I'm not a little kid, y'know!"

She stopped, laughing. "Well you sure act like one sometimes."

He just grumbled and pouted, looking out the window. "Are you done torturing me yet?"

"Yea…" he jumped out of his chair and started towards the stairs before she could even finish. She grinned as she listened to his heavy footsteps, calling after, "Just make sure your down for dinner by six! Were having stew and there'll be a nice tall glass of milk waiting for you afterwards!"

The house shook with the slam of a door.

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_**So was it worth the wait? I hope so. Sorry, again. **_

_**Please review! **___


	9. Happiness

Just as I promised, a quick update—well for me at least. I'm so lazy. And I read too much. Jeez, you'd think school would be the problem here but its not. Ah, the privileges of being a senior…well, for me at least. I can't speak for everyone else. Then again, maybe that has nothing to do with it.

Anyway…

I'd like to make it known that I, under no circumstance, own FMA. I'm not that creative people. I read too many fictions and coalesce them into my own little bits or work.

—_Now let's be honest, I KNOW I'm not the only one that does that.—_

**What All Men Seek**

"Are you happy with your life?"

There is no such thing as eternal happiness. It is impossible and for anyone to strive after it would be a striving for the wind. How could there be such a thing with all the hardship people sought to escape always emerging to haunt them?

That was his opinion. It had been for as long as he could remember, since the days of his childhood when he would catch his mother staring longingly out the window before turning to him with a smile and tickling fingers. Time had only served to reinforce this idea in him, every time things seemed to be looking up only to be crushed back down with reality.

Even now that the nightmare of his past was behind him, that it was all over and the light of his world seemed all the brighter for it, his opinion had yet to change. Not only was it that deeply ingrained in him, but it was the truth as well.

And one would be a fool to think he would believe anything but the truth.

Negative, pessimistic, partial to general opinion… some would be inclined to assume as much of him in regards to that line of thinking. He would respond by pertly pointing out that they were too narrow-minded to realize this opinion was in regards to _long-term_ happiness, not the emotion itself. Then he would smile smugly at your baffled expressions and more than _happily_ explain his reasoning.

Happiness is fleeting, temporary. Just as is anger and fear and sadness. It is determined by the occurrence and the persons involved. For example, was he happy to be able to walk again after the disastrous transmutation he and his brother performed? Yes. Was he happy when his best friend and surrogate grandmother attached the limbs that would give him that freedom again? No. It hurt. No sane person could be happy about pain.

The point: happiness is dependent on the current circumstance and the circumstances were always in flux. So could he be happy with his life? No. There was a broad list of events he could name where he had been anything _but_ happy with his life, and that still bothered him on those dismal, cloudy days he would wallow in the darkest of those memories.

"But what about now? Are you happy with it _right now_?"

At this point he would look around the semi-crowded room filled with guests. He would pick out his brother, whole and healthy and smiling with an arm slung loosely around the waist of his lithe Xingese fiancé, talking with some others in the corner. He would look a little to the left, letting his gaze wander over the slender curves of his wife and the pleasant smile reflected in her blue eyes, catching the briefest glint of polished metal on the hand holding their small daughter against her hip. His eyes would finally fall to the shaggy head of blonde hair below his chin, an easy smile crossing his lips as his son turned up to look back at him grinning before once again focusing on the book in his lap.

"Am I _content_?" He would then ask. "…yea, I am."

Because while happiness was fleeting, contentedness was forever if you took the steps to attain it.

I almost feel bad for whoever asked the question, having to sit through that unnecessarily complicated explanation… and for something so simple. *shakes head in mock sympathy*. But oh well, it was necessary for my sake.

Reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	10. Illusion

**Summary- **The fondest of memories are realized in the queerest of moments.

**Rated-** K+ for blood.

**Author's Note-** Yay! I'm done with English work. Now I am back, and since I've had this in mind for a while I'm going to finally put it out here. Oh, and it's a future fic, thought I'd point that out before hand. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer-** Just, no. No, I don't. And I never will.

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**Crossed Visages**

He had heard the crash first, and then the crying, but that was only once he was at the precipice of the stairs. Once at the bottom he saw only a fleeting image of Winry rushing into the bathroom and as he drew closer to where she had just escaped to, saw the small, evenly spaced dots of blood on the floor leading towards the kitchen.

"What happened?" Edward appeared at the doorway, finding Winry bustling about the cabinets with their two year old son sitting on the counter top, a deep cut on his arm bleeding as he bawled.

She turned to him long enough to acknowledge his presence, emitting a small sigh of relief as she resumed her search. "Good, you're here. Could you try calming him down for me please?" she asked hurriedly.

He did, sitting himself on the counter before picking up his son and placing him on his lap, holding him in place with a hand on his stomach and gently bouncing his leg. It helped, and the small boy's sobs gradually quieted to whimpering and sniffles.

Winry left for a few seconds before coming back with a few white towels in hand. She handed one of them to Edward. "Here, hold his arm above his chest and apply pressure to the cut while I get everything ready.

He nodded, doing as she said. "You haven't told me what happened yet."

She wet one of the clothes and rubbed some soap in it. "Nick was trying to get his cup off the table by pulling on the table cloth and ended up pulling everything else down with it, including the ceramic bowl with the fruit in it." Winry stepped in front of them, gently pulling the soiled towel from the boy's arm to start cleaning off the area.

Once all the excess blood was wiped away the cut didn't look nearly so bad, not on the surface at least. It was only maybe two inches long, which granted looked bigger on such a small arm, but most of the severity seemed to be in its depth.

Edward silently concentrated on Winry as she gingerly examined, disinfected, and wrapped up Nicholas' arm. She had the look of a doctor fixing up their patient; focused. But there was more to it, something deeper. An affection of the most unique quality shone through her calming eyes and soft reassuring smile toward the shivering, whimpering blonde in his lap. Something that had been absent from his own life for many years but still remembered fondly.

It was almost… _weird _seeing it now, in this way. But he supposed that he had been seeing it for years now without even knowing it.

Still, never in his twenty five years of life would he have imagined seeing facets of his mother in Winry.

As she finished bandaging up Nick's arm and ruffled the top of his head before planting a kiss on it and a few comforting and admonishing words, he couldn't help but imagine that he was looking into his own mother's face again after one of the particularly rough falls he had once taken.

It was weird.

And yet, it was somehow… humbling.

"Lemme down! Lemme down!"

Nick jumped up and down in his lap eagerly, apparently over his recent catastrophe and Edward slid off the counter to place him down on his feet. No sooner than he did the boy dashed out of the bathroom, in search for who knew what.

"I told him he could have a cookie." Winry answered his thoughts. "Just as long as he used a stool to get to them…and avoided the mess."

He nodded, still looking her over. She shifted slightly under his gaze.

"You've been being quiet. What is it?"

He shook his head dismissively. "Nothing, just thinking." It was weird, completely silly the idea he had in mind. But still, he couldn't resist the urge to just see the visage that had been painted into his mind. "Turn around."

"Why?" Winry narrowed her eyes suspiciously, curiously.

Not really wanting to fight over it, Edward grabbed her shoulders and turned her around so that she was facing the mirror. He then opened the drawer, retrieving a brush and hair band before starting in on her hair, brushing it to the side so that it hung over her shoulder. Then, running his fingers through it to make sure none of her hair was left out, wrapped the hair band around the end.

"Wow." He whispered under his breath, finally admiring Winry's reflection in the mirror, holding her shoulders in place.

She stared back at him through the mirror. "What is it?"

She couldn't see it? Well, maybe that wasn't so surprising. It was _his_ mother after all. "You almost look just like her."

Winry seemed to still be confused until she took a closer look at herself and realization dawned on her features. She smiled lightly at his glassy eyed expression and leaned back, patting his arm in an awkward kind of hug.

"You should probably go check on him." Edward said after a few moments, speaking quietly so as not to break the serene, nostalgic atmosphere.

"Yea, and make sure he doesn't take more than one." Winry smirked, pulling herself away. "Just like someone else I know does."

He scoffed, turning to start putting everything on the counter away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mmm hmm. I'm sure." Winry started out the door, leaving him to clean up. "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Oh, and wake up Addy when your done."

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The next morning, when Edward found Winry cleaning up the house with her hair pulled back in that same messy pony he had done up the day before, he was surprised but hardly minded.

Neither did he mind when she did it every day after as well.

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I am so happy with this! When I first thought of how Winry's hair was styled just like Trisha's at the end of the manga, I had to write something for it. She couldn't have just spontaneously started putting her hair up like that without noticing, or without a little incentive.

And the names. Obviously, Nicholas. I've seen that more than once from different authors and I think it seems a fitting name for their son, like something they would choose. And then Addy, presumably their daughter, is short for Adriana. I don't have any particular reason for that, except maybe a small fetish for names that start with "A". But yea, I thought it was also a fitting one.

Anyway, I'm done blabbering. Please review!


	11. Obsession

**Summary- **Even though it would take up so much of their lives, they still had room for each other.

**Rated- **K

**Author's Note- ***shrugs* Not much I can say. But I will be on a trip this weekend, so yea; no updates for few days (not that that's anything abnormal). But I am making up for it with three updates in one day. So yea, enjoy!

**Disclaimer- **Is my name famous? No, therefore I own absolutely nothing.

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**Magnetic**

Automail and alchemy. Alchemy and automail. Either way you put it, they were as polar opposite as black and white, land and sea, solid and gas, north and south. The only thing they shared was the letter they began with.

Neither art had anything to do with the other. The science of mechanics had nothing in common with the science of deconstruction, reconstruction, and understanding. So it would be a wonder how two people obsessed with these two very different fields could bear to find the time to spend with each other.

For many years, that had been the truth. They couldn't. But that was in the beginning, when the interest was first piqued and the obsession at its highest. Trying to do so would be nearly as ineffective as forcing two magnets of the same pole together.

The drastic plummet from that high is what finally brought them together, though. The magnets had finally found a place to attract each other. What had been deconstructed needed to be constructed again. But once the construction was finished an abstract barricade, an unknown force, pulled them apart again, until the next time deconstruction wrought would need to be constructed again.

That pattern would continue for many more years, and it never ceased to ensue. It was cruel, teasing, but alchemy needed automail in order to perform effectively. Without that the barricade would never become surpassed. Each return, each leave, was the only way that insurmountable wall could be filed down. Just a little more each time, until finally, it was broken.

The magnets finally clicked.

And then were they able to have their passions without it pulling them apart any more.

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Well, can't say this was exactly how I envisioned it would go last night when I thought of it, but I am very pleased. I like my analogies... maybe a bit too much. XD

Like I mentioned, I'm gonna be gone…again…but for a different reason. Hope this all will suffice.

Later!


	12. Smile

**Summary- **He learned the hard way that the unsuspected were always to be suspected.

**Rated- **K+

**Verse- **Manga for no other reason than I say so. It can be the anime if you want it to be that bad.

**Author's Note- **I've threatened to do this to my oldest younger sister before but have never actually gone thought with it. It would be funny, and I'd get up early just to take a picture of it. But anyway, well, I'll just let you read it. How 'bout that?

**Disclaimer- **Must I say it again? I don't own anything. I have no money for it.

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**Sweet Vengeance**

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"Shh." A small finger pressed against lips curved into a mischievous smile, glints of white teeth peeking out from in between.

The other nodded their head, stifling the fit of giggles clogged in their throat. Clutching a camera securely in small hands, they were prepared to act their part in a moments notice.

The two young partners in crime stealthily approached the sofa, barely looking down on the smallest of their group as he napped unaware of his friends' antics. A book lay open across his chest, covering its whole width from arm to arm. Expectedly, one of his hands had pulled up the corner of his T-shirt, revealing a fair amount of his sensitive stomach.

With the quietness that only a four year old could possess, a stepping stool was placed down on the floor beside the dark blue sofa in order to provide an even greater height advantage. A marker emerged from a pocket and was instantly uncapped. Its possessor grinned with delight, staring cross-eyed at the black felt soon to mark its next victim. To the side, the other giggled excitedly.

"You ready?" the pen holder paused to asked, marker precariously hovering over its live canvas.

The camera holder nodded eagerly, holding up said object for the ready. "Yup."

With a final, enthusiastic nod, the avenger set to work.

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"Mom! Where are you, Mom? Mom!"

Edward was angry, and not just because he had been woken up by Winry's cold, tickling fingers on his stomach either. When he had awoken, both Al and Winry were sputtering in fits of laughter at him, made obvious by their pointing fingers. And then he had noticed the picture in Al's hand and the camera in Winry's, but wasn't able to consider them long enough before a flash from the camera blinded him. Only when they were on the floor almost rolling around in laughter had he managed to snag the pictures from them.

And then he was _really_ mad.

"I'm telling Mom!" he had cried out before dashing out of the family room, his so-called friend and brother only just crawling to their feet as he disappeared down the hall.

Edward found her in the kitchen washing the dishes, and wasted no time to run up to her side with the pictures still clutched firmly in his hand—as if the evidence on his face wasn't enough. "Mom!"

"What is it, dear?" Trisha pulled her arms out of the warm water and grabbed a towel, stopping short when she spotted her eldest son.

"Look what Al did to my face!" he pointed and indignant finger just below his nose. "He drew an ugly moustache on my face!" Although scowling, he inwardly grinned at the prospect of his little brother's demise.

After all, it wasn't like _he'd_ done _anything_ to deserve this.

Once he realized that his mother was not yelling for his no-good sibling, Edward's delight faltered and his mental smirk turned to a frown. And when he saw that humored glint in her eyes and that she was trying to hide a smile behind her hand, that frown deepened to mirror his facial expression.

Betrayal.

His own mom was laughing at him. Why wasn't she mad like he was?

There was only one answer, and it had to do with that conniving little imp they liked to call his brother.

Al _never_ got in trouble! It wasn't fair!

Edward stomped his foot, glaring balefully up at his mom. "It's not funny! Get Al in trouble!"

He watched her pull herself together, not without emitting a small chuckle at his expense first, though, and patted his head reassuringly. "You're right, I'm sorry." Trisha apologized. "I'll see what I can do."

Nodding stiffly in satisfaction, both their attention was brought to the doorway of the kitchen, where Alphonse and Winry had finally caught up.

Much to his displeasure, Winry was still pink in the face and seemed about ready to spurt off into another fit of laughter at the sight of him, although she kept it withheld for the sake of the situation. Al on the other hand, while still looking pleased, was cast with a shadow of anxiety on his babyish features.

"Am I in trouble mom?" Al asked timidly, innocent golden eyes peering up at her.

"Of course you are!" Edward proclaimed before Trisha even had the chance. He pointed a finger at the sandy blond across the room then back at black curly markings on his face. "You drew on my face!"

At the accusation the younger boy's face only hardened in defense. "Only cuz you made me eat your veggies and clean the room after you said you would do it!"

He stiffened, but quickly regained himself. The little manipulator would not turn this on him! This was his turn for justice!

"I did not!" Ed lied, covering it up with anger.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too, and you know it!"

Before either had the chance to continue their accusations Trisha cut in, turning to her eldest. "Edward…"

He panicked, but covered it with indignation as he turned to his mother. He was not going to lose this! Not again! "He's lying, Mom. I didn't do that."

Winry snorted from beside Alphonse, catching everyone's attention. "Yea right, Ed. Al never lies."

"Who asked you?"

Puffing out her cheeks, Winry strode up to him and snagged the pictures from his hand, sticking her tongue out at him before walking away. She said a short goodbye and a few moments later the sound of the front door shutting echoed within the house.

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It had become testament the following day that Edward had been punished more severely than Alphonse. While the latter had gotten away with no dessert for the rest of the week, the former had that as well as no books or playing outside, on the charges of lying and manipulative behavior.

She had had no sympathy. As far as she was concerned, he had fully deserved it. She was only glad she had tagged along with Al to snap some pictures of his personal vengeance.

Winry chuckled at the years old pictures she had found hidden away in the drawer of the green armoire in the family room. She had almost forgotten about them, having stashed them away lest Edward find them and shred them to pieces. But he wasn't here now and she had nothing else to do.

Out of sight, out of mind, she supposed.

Idly, she wondered what he would do now if they pulled the same prank... or if he would still look just as goofy and ridiculous.

Hmm… maybe the next time the brothers came by she would pulley Alphonse into doing it again. That would be fun. And with their rarity nowadays, a few laughs and smiles wouldn't do anybody harm.

Well, maybe Ed's dignity, but since when had she cared much about that?

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	13. Are You Challenging Me?

**Summary- **She knew how to get what she wanted out of him, and he was aware of those weaknesses.

**Verse- **Manga

**Rated- **T for language

**A.N- **Happy reading!

**Disclaimer- **In no size, shape, or form do I own Fullmetal Alchemist.

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**Pushing Buttons**

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The winter solstice was among the more prevalently practiced celebrations in Resembool. Tradition had set for the gathering of the entire town's population at a large bonfire which had been built up during the course of the afternoon to associate and drink and dance. It was one time during the year that children and adults alike looked forward to.

This was no different for Winry, who after dinner that December evening had dragged along an eager Alphonse and begrudging Edward behind her.

It. Was. Freezing. There was no snow on the ground to speak of. There were no gray clouds blanketing the clear night sky; just a light, bitter breeze that could slice easily through even the thickest of cloths. And needless to say, that was doing absolutely no good for Edward, his leg especially. While not nearly as deathly cold as Briggs, the metal attached to sensitive skin did nothing to help elude him into a sense of warmth while gazing almost sourly at the blazing fire a few meters away.

"It'll help if you do something, ya know." Winry sat down, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. Apparently she had noticed him periodically scrubbing at his knee, using the friction to temporarily relieve the chill collecting there.

He turned a steady glare at her. "Like what?"

"Well, they're plenty of people to talk to."

Scoffing, "What's to talk about?"

Winry looked at him disbelievingly. "Really, Ed? You're asking me _that_?"

"_No_, I'm asking you what's two plus two." Edward retorted, carefully avoiding her narrowed glare. "Of course I am…haven't talked to any of these people in years."

"Al hasn't either, and he's seems to be getting along well." She motioned across the way, toward the dimmed edges where the large fire's light barely reached, where the younger of them was laughing along with a group of old acquaintances.

Edward turned away. "I'm not exactly a conversationalist like he is."

Striking up small talk wasn't something that came easily to him, and as such avoided at all necessary costs. Going up to people and demanding them to spill out their guts to him was another thing. That was more fun and easier to pull off, at least when the situation wasn't dire or his life at stake which in most case it was.

Leaning forward on her elbows, Winry sighed gruffly in defeat, staring out at the townspeople dancing around the bonfire. Suddenly she perked up, alerting his attention. She smiled.

"Dance with me."

He frowned, wasting no time to voice his opinion. "Hell no."

If there was one thing Edward absolutely, positively, without question wouldn't do, it was dance.

Winry's pretty smile melted into a frown. "Why not?"

"Because, I don't dance."

"Stupid." She grabbed his wrist and stood up. "You always used to when we were kids, so you can't give me that excuse."

He whisked his arm from her grasp, staring up at her defiantly. "That was years ago. Things change."

"How so?" Winry bit back. "Just because we're older now you can't have fun? That's the stupidest excuse ever."

"It just does." Weak argument, but it was all he had when he'd really just sit around and wallow in his desolation. She had a way of cornering him to get her way, but far be it for him to go down so easily. Stubbornness was his best defense when it came down to that, and as he once again looked away from her withering gaze, he hoped it would be enough.

Because it didn't always work.

A few moments passed, and if it weren't for her shadow Edward would have thought she had already given up and left. Just as he turned to ask what the hell she was waiting for she grabbed his arm again, using his surprise as an advantage and yanking him to his feet. She held her vice grip as she stared impishly up at him.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe the reason you _won't_ is because you _can't_."

The flipping flames flickered dim light across their faces, casting mystifying shadows across their flesh.

"What did you say?"

Winry's smile was roguish. "I said _you __**can't**__ dance_."

Damn it, he knew what she was doing. She was baiting him. But of course, he was being just as ignorant of it as he had every time Mustang would make a jab at his height, or lack thereof.

_Nobody_ _ever_ told him he couldn't do something.

"Is that a challenge?"

There were a few answers that she could have given, but only one that would be a surefire to get him out there. As if any less wouldn't be expected, she hit the mark. "Yes. Yes it is."

Edward grabbed her arm, the one that was still holding his other, and gave Winry a dangerous smirk of his own. "Damn you, now I'm gonna have to prove you wrong, aren't I?" he barely gave her enough time to nod before dragging her out into the crowd of dancers.

Much later that night, when they had arrived back home and settled in for the night, all danced and talked out, Edward grudgingly admitted that Winry had been right.

Doing something had helped him forget about the cold.

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Heh, I feel like I'm getting a lot better writing dialogue. Never really thought I did too great because I'd be trying to hard to think it up. But I guess the more I do it the more I've gotten comfortable with it. Anyway...

Personally, I can't really see Ed as one who would dance, not without incentive that is. And an 'innocent' jab at his pride from Winry seemed to be incentive enough. But that's my opinion. What do you think? Could this pass as possible in the 'real' world?

Please review!


	14. Two Roads

**Verse- **Manga

**Rated- **K+

**Disclaimer- **I obviously don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. I think that would be fairly obvious by now.

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**Dance of Their Lives**

In and out. Out and in.

The lives both of them followed kept to this pattern. It worked like a dance, sliding away from the other for a while and slipping back into their arms for half as long. It was a delicate dance that a single misstep could ruin, but it was also passionate, fueled by a fire that provided reason enough not to let it end.

Their dance had begun innocently, playfully, and energetically. Small sidesteps and brief twirls marked the points in which individual discoveries were made: interests and non-interests, likes and dislikes, dissimilarities and similarities. Not once, though, were they ever out of reach or out of contact.

The music makes a sudden rapid crescendo and then drops to a low, ominous thrumming, all the elements cuing the dramatic break as they slide away to opposing sides of the circle of light. Tragedy and heartbreak pierce the air between them, for it is the time a fork has cut into their road and she is saddened; it is mysterious and suspenseful with the dark secret he withholds. They follow the edges of the light meticulously, steps slow and careful so as not to slip and give way to be caught.

But it was bound to happen eventually.

His sudden fall in holds an intensity of its own, although different from the fall out he had earlier executed. The music becomes melancholic and despairing, heartrending, as she seems to be almost carrying him along, dragging even, in a slow easy circle. She holds him close but the embrace is not reciprocated, as if the closeness did nothing to penetrate the distance that had formed between them. The life of the dance seems to be slowly ebbing away, dying; the quieting of the instrumentals is testament to that. But just when it seems the point of no return has passed, the impaired is standing once again.

Gradually, inch by inch, he begins to pull away again. The lingering is only a means of gratitude. Too soon they are back to their separate ways, circling one another, watching one another. She to be sure he remains unhurt; he to make sure she is out of harms way.

And although painful to bear, the life had returned to their dance. A fire has begun consuming it, devouring everything in its path. Determination, aggressiveness, and vigor glow brightly in each of their steps. There are stumbles, times when that light flicks precariously with the wind, but they always pick back up. They are pronounced by stubbornly stiff postures as they slide up chest to chest, sometimes he to her or her to him but never in the middle. They stay on the course of their large circle and make a smaller circle of their own around each other.

The coming end of this phase can be felt in the air, the frequency of their approaches and the intensity of them increasing. Each one brought them one step closer to the end, each teasing touch from their unclasped hands one closer to not having to let go, the building crescendo leaving to them the suspenseful expectance of the epitome.

Here, there. Come, go. Near, away. In, out.

And then… nothing.

It all stops.

Neither of them move, except to face each other fully. She watches him acutely, eagerly for even the slightest movement made by him. The wait is over, but there is a time for everything. If the wrong move is made all could be ruined.

Patience is the key. She knew that well. He would return when the time was right.

A light, soft, melodic tune begins to pick up, each note seeming to flow in the air.

In a motion that hardly seems to be noticed he strides back up to her reaching out to pull her to him, and she welcomes him back with open arms. The music picks up to an easy paced tempo as they continue on in a waltz. All was well again. It was happy and free of the overwhelming pain that had riddled it before. The fire still burns, but it has simmered down to a warm, comfortable glow. It is a middle ground that can pick up with heat and passion or die down to barely glowing embers.

And it will stay that way until one or the other is no more.

They are two people with two separate lives and two different sets steps to follow. But their paths are always intertwining. It had been clear from the beginning they had the same destination.

And that was together.

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I've pretty much just rewrote this as a last edit, so I'm taking a chance at how pleased I'll be with it later on. But as of now I'm confident in myself.**  
**

I'm not a choreographer, and I'm definitely no dancer. Hopefully, that didn't matter.

I can't help thinking I wrote a repeat of the theme 'obsession', just with a different analogy. I guess it only sort of is: same approach but different concept. Guess it doesn't really matter in the long run.

Sorry for the wait, if I kept you waiting. Trying to get some of my grades up a little bit before the semester ended was on my mind a lot, kept my mind busy. But now I only have one period of finals to go tomorrow so I'm free again. Now I just need to find my motivation again...

'Til next time: sayonara!


	15. Waiting

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**Letters**

A month turned to two months.

Two months turned to four months.

Four months turned to eight months.

And then here she was, over half a year gone by since he departed for the west. No doubt, longer periods of silence had passed by before—much, much longer—but she had thought it would be different now. However, the days gone seemed to mock that hope more than anything.

Winry knew she shouldn't have been surprised. Her disappointment seemed almost ridiculous in hindsight, really. This _was_ Edward, the on who never kept in contact except for the oddball occasion he needed her to come to him for maintenance. There was also that one time after she had left him and Alphonse in Central a few years ago, only for him to turn around and check up on her the very next morning. That _had _been kind of creepy, if only because she wasn't expecting it.

Now she was expecting it—and with good reason, she thought—but wasn't getting it. And although she had the mind to know that the circumstances weren't even remotely similar anymore, that she wasn't in mortal danger, she was still disappointed.

It was feeling oddly like the old days again, much to her displeasure.

But it was far from Winry to mope around and wait around futilely. Doing so had never helped her before, so she moved on. By the third month, she had decided to head back to Rush Valley and continue her work there. Those brothers weren't the only ones with business and ambitions to follow through with, and what better a time than now for her to pull them out. In the very least it would keep her busy until they decided to come home.

Between working with new and old clientele, performing import surgeries and managing rehab, making more improvements in her models, and even making sure there was always a steady supply of parts and materials, Winry hardly noticed the five months that flew by.

It was nearing ten o'clock when Winry started closing up shop for the night. It had been a long day and she was ready to sleep it off, but since her work space was a mess she couldn't' do so yet. If she left it as it was until morning… she shook her head.

Waking up to a dirty workshop was something she just could not stand.

She was putting back the last of her tools when the announcement, "you have a letter Winry, dear" reached her ears. Swiveling around at almost breakneck speed, she saw Garfiel coming to her, holding a creamy colored envelope up in the air between two fingers.

Her heart beat fast and hopeful and she held her breath in anticipation. Could it really be…?

"I left the mail on the counter this afternoon. It must have been forgotten in the rush of the day. I'm so sorry." He handed her the envelope and announced merrily, "To one Miss Winry Rockbell from a Mrs. Pinako Rockbell."

Garfiel started away and began looking through the bills and ads that had been rolled up in his other hand, missing the obvious deflation of her shoulders as she read just was he had said.

It was from her grandmother.

Not Edward.

Even a letter from Al would have been nice.

_Really, I shouldn't be this upset to hear from Granny. _Winry thought guiltily, eyes glazing over her grandmother's sloppy cursive.

Sighing, she set down the heavy envelope to put away a few more nuts and bolts and her drill and pliers. As she did, she had to wonder why a letter. Couldn't her grandma have just called her? That would have been easier wouldn't it? Although she guessed that it didn't really matter either way, as long as the message was received.

Winry was just miffed the letter wasn't from who she wanted. That was why she was making such a fuss over it. She knew because it had happened before.

_Just like the old days… _She gruffly reminded herself, picking up the envelope from the workbench, and switching off the light, calling out a quick "good night" before heading upstairs.

After washing up her face and changing into her pajamas Winry turned on the bedside lamp and crawled under the sheets of her bed. All was quiet and peaceful, the sounds of the desert reaching her through the open window, and she was alone behind closed doors. Leaning heavily against the wall, she contemplated just leaving the letter for the morning and going to sleep.

Curiosity was too nagging sometimes.

Mustering up the energy, she reached over to her night table and retrieved the letter, wasting no time to slit open the envelope and pull it out.

When she unfolded the note she found another envelope, the flap side facing her. She raised an eyebrow at this, but after reading the terse note on the sheet of paper it made sense.

…Sort of.

_Winry, you better tell that boy to send you things at the right address. I am __**not**__ passing on love letters between the two of you._

_Quick and to the point as always_, Winry thought offhandedly before actually computing the actual content. She read it again for good measure and looked down at the other envelope in her lap. She looked back up at the short note and her eyes widened as they fell back down.

Winry set the paper down and picked up the envelope, flipping it over and glazing her eyes quickly over it to find out if what she was hoping was true.

She didn't think she'd ever been happier to receive mail from her grandma as she glazed over the faded black ink of Edward's neatly slanted scrawl, her fingers whispering over it as she turned it over, as though it might disappear on her.

He really did write better with his right hand. Not only was it actually legible, but it looked nice too.

Just as carefully as she did the other, Winry slit open the envelope and slipped her fingers inside to pull out the contents, quick to notice the stiffness within the folded sheet as she did. That still didn't keep her from being surprised by the photos that fell into her lap when she unfolded the letter. Winry hesitated a moment, blinking at them before scooping them up into her hand, wary of getting her fingerprints on the images as she looked through them.

She brought a hand to her mouth, covering up a choked laugh, and wiped at the small tears building up in her eyes with her arm.

It might have been the fatigue making her deliriously happy, but maybe she could forgive him for taking so long to write her.

_Maybe._

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I know I could add to this, but after two and a half weeks of this just sitting around without any progress, I've decided enough. The theme is addressed, so it's good enough for now. I might do a counterpart for this with another theme later on, we'll see. Still not sure what the heck would actually be written in the letter…

In case you were wondering or didn't know, the pictures mentioned are supposed to be from the 2011 FMA Calendar for the month of December. Here's a link (take out the spaces): http: / sky-dark .livejournal .com / 814849 .html

Hope you like it and thanks for reading!


	16. Food

Takes place post-manga sometime. Don't know why I'm saying that, pretty obvious pretty quick.

As always, I own nothing. Enjoy!

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**Food**

"There's no food." Ed thought out loud before yelling, "Winry! There's no food!"

Well, that wasn't exactly true. There was, but not anything worthy of whipping up and serving as a meal. There especially wasn't anything even remotely close to what tended to quell his wife's picky appetite as of late. That she tended to want a lot of the foods he normally favored as well was convenient at first, but was now slowly transforming into a nuisance. With her appetite as voracious as his own had been years ago, those goods that he desired would more often than not be available when he wanted them.

It was getting annoying.

Especially since he had only gone to the store a week ago.

"Winry!"

"Hold on, Ed. Geez, I'm coming." Soft footsteps sounded on the hardwood, growing louder until Winry toddled into the kitchen. "What is it?" she asked, sounding impatient. "I'm a little busy you know. I have to finish Mr. Tennyson's leg before tomorrow morning."

"There's no more food."

For the briefest moment she looked as though she wanted to strangle him, and breathed in a deep calming breath. "Then go get more. You know what to do." She started to walk away.

"But I already did a week ago." Ed exclaimed at her indifference toward the preposterous issue. "Where the hell is it all going?"

Of course, he knew the answer. But how could it all be gone so _fast_?

Winry glowered and strode straight up to him, hands on the back of her hips to make the fair bit of her protruding stomach stick out further as she glared up at him. He took a small step back cautiously, although still held face.

Caution, he had learned especially in the last five months, was a wise course of action when dealing with a pregnant Winry.

"You know _exactly _'where the hell' it's going, Edward." She spoke, ominously quiet. "And if you've got a problem with that, you should've thought of the consequences beforehand." She poked him in the chest for emphasis.

He blinked, then his brow furrowed. _Hold on… _And then his eyes widened.

She was blaming him for this?

"How's this my fault?" Ed very nearly screeched. "You're the one getting up at two in the morning every night for snacks…"

"To feed _your _child." Winry efficiently retorted. "_You _should have brought more food home."

His mouth hung open momentarily, gaping for words. Two, possibly even three faults he could pick out that she had thrown at him. Which one to answer to was proving to be difficult. "Wa…I can only carry so much!"

"Well, then figure it out." Winry turned and left him alone in the kitchen beside the open cupboards. From down the hall her voice trilled out, "And while you're at it bring back a cinnamon roll for me, would ya."

Ed clearly caught the added "make yourself useful" she muttered as she closed the door to her workshop.

Finally deciding to settle for a scowl, he reluctantly acquiesced, trailing grouchily to the front closet to retrieve a coat and shoes. While hardly in the mood to be cooperative, if he was lucky, getting what she wanted would make her more amiable. That, and mostly because he was still hungry.

He left without word, grumbling under his breath nonsense about crazy women, no appreciation, and making his life difficult.

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_I'm_ hungry. I hope dinner's done soon.

Wish I could think of a better title, but eh, whatever. I'm lazy. I'll stick with the theme word.

Have a good day/night!


	17. Under the Rain

You may have noticed (or maybe not) that some of the chapters have gone missing. They have disappeared (temporarily for all but two that I will probably, eventually, revise and put up as one-shots) in my attempt to "clean up" this fic from themes that I wasn't especially proud of. This one is a repost of a recent post with minor changes. You can read it again or not if you like.

I only get to play with these "toys". I can't keep them for myself (unfortunately, because I'd be feeling really awesome if they were actually mine.)

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**No Reason**

This was the fifth time Winry had looked out the front window in the last hour. And in those preceding sixty minutes he had still yet to move an inch.

Without so much as a word—or purpose, it seemed—Ed had walked out the front door and perched himself on the stone fence defining the perimeter of the yard. He had pulled his right leg up to his chest, folding his arms around it meaninglessly as he stared out at the darkening horizon. The only move she had noticed him make was to hold out his right hand when a light drizzle began.

A rolling rumble echoed from a short distance, reminding her of the oncoming storm. It was mid-summer, and while rain was not uncommon during that time for the mountain village, it usually brought with it disgustingly uncomfortable humidity and fierce thunderstorms.

It was hardly raining yet, but even from her place safe inside she could see Ed was sweating from the slick look of his skin on his shoulders and arms. And Winry hated to think of what havoc the weather was playing on his left leg...

_Idiot, what the heck are you doing out there? _She thought mildly as she resolved herself and stepped outside herself.

Barely closing the door, she could already feel the sweat beading on her brow mixing with the warm sprinkles being emitted from the gray clouds. But no matter how sticky and icky it felt, she kept going.

Either way, she'd be taking a shower once back inside.

"You know, now that I have my arm back, all the pain seems to gravitate to my leg when the weather gets bad." Ed commented as she approached his left side, not even giving her the chance to speak. He closed his right hand into a fist and set it down on his foot.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Winry inquired curiously, not missing at all the sight of the swollen scar tissue where the port and flesh of his left limb met. She pulled back her lips in a wince. She had seen what automail did to its recipients when it got humid and musty like this so it wasn't a sight she was unused to, but seeing the effects on Edward affected her differently.

It had always affected her differently with him.

"I have to have a reason to sit outside?"

"I guess not." She mused, smiling slightly. "But you pretty much said yourself your leg is bothering you and it would be easier to take care of it inside."

He sniffed and she could make out the upturn of his lips as he continued to stare out at the green hills. "I'll be fine, it's been worse before. Just not used to it s'all." Another rumble stretched over the sky and the light drizzle grew to a steady pelt. Ed didn't move at all; even as the rain began to soak through his hair and clothes, both sticking like cling wrap to his skin. Neither did Winry.

It was hard for her not to admire the drops slipping from the tips of his bangs, gliding along his angular jaw line to the precipice of his chin and drip forgotten to the ground below. She couldn't ignore the sense that she was standing before one of those gracefully glorious statues photographed in the history books in preparatory school.

Neither teen allowed her the opportunity to realize how anomalous her train of thought sounded, or to react accordingly towards.

"This is the first time it's rained since I got my arm back." He noted absently, and although Ed was giving no sign of it, Winry was sure at that moment he was very much aware of warm rain hitting the aforementioned appendage. Awareness of its improbable existence was very strong within her mind, so it must have been even more so for him.

It shouldn't have been there. It should've still been metal. Yet, it always belonged there. It should have been there all along.

Many days still, Winry was still awed by it all. A goal that had seemed so impossible to be achieved, that at once she had deemed ridiculous out of selfishness and on more than one occasion briefly doubted would ever come to be, actually did. Not only a limb was restored, but a whole body too, which seemed even more so out of the question.

It was too good to be true, and yet it was true.

Not caring in the least that her clothes were soaked through to the skin, or that his were, Winry moved to slip her arms around Ed's torso, holding tightly as she laid against his back but careful not to knock him off balance. She felt him stiffen under her and twist his neck to look over his shoulder.

"What are you doing that for?" He accused lightly.

"Do I need a reason to hug my best friend?" Winry asked innocently.

For a while he didn't say anything, the only sound between them of the pouring rain and for her, the thrumming from deep within his chest. Then, without hesitancy, he put a hand over her clasped ones—the right one, she noted by the movement of his shoulder, sending her own heart fluttering and pleasing warmth coursing through her veins. She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded her inquiry.

"No, I guess not."

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Like I said before, it only a little redo.

Stay tuned for more revisions—and some new updates mixed in.


	18. Night

Here's another redo. Well, a rewrite actually.

_Fullmetal Alchemist_ is a toy that I cannot keep. I'm only allowed to play with it.

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**Desert Night  
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Winry dragged her hands rapidly up and down her arms. The long sleeves of her thin jacket were stretched over her palms, held in place by clenched fingers. It helped very little to keep her warm, but it was better than nothing. It made her very glad that she had decided against her doubts and brought the jacket along.

Desert nights felt cold enough to solidify water. Funny thing, though, there was no water to prove that with. Well, there was the trough the horses drank from, but she wasn't about to go sticking her hand in it to see how much the liquid had cooled since the sun set a few hours ago.

Otherwise, though, the night was very beautiful; even more so than the ones spent at home, in a way. The glitter of the endless sea of sand in the moonlight was a sort of exotic and mystical beauty; one that enhanced the curious wonders of the ancient ruins she stood amongst. It was speechlessly thrilling walking about, looking about at the remains of what was once a thriving civilization, and wonder things about the places and artifacts she saw.

All the while pondering such things, Winry tried not to think too much about what she knew had happened to this oasis in the desert. The history of Xerxes was too depressing, looking at it from her standpoint, so she tried to stay blind to the truth like almost every other person in the world was.

She really shouldn't have tried. Between ignorance and truth, the latter always won; always.

The young blond frowned as she gently placed her hand against the cool stone wall, peering inside an open doorway, into what obviously was once a home.

"You shouldn't be walking around here on your own, you know."

Winry just about jumped a foot into the air. That was another thing she didn't like about the desert at night; not only was it freezing, it was just as deathly quiet.

"Don't _do _that, Ed!" she turned on him explosively, scowling at his show of amusement on her behalf. She back-handed the smirking blond who actually had the gall to approach her on the arm. Edward only laughed.

"So, what are you doing out here? It's late."

Winry sniffed, looking back inside, still sore over being startled. "What are _you _doing here?"

"I asked you first."

Rolling her eyes, she answered tersely. "It's too cold. I couldn't sleep." She looked back to him. "You?"

Edward shrugged. "Not tired." He nodded past her, to the dark gray interior of the house they stood in front of. "Want to go inside and look?"

He said it so casually, as if there was absolutely no problem with crossing that barrier between past and present, like it was absolutely normal to invade a small world that wasn't yours but nobody else's either. Winry had only peered through windows and open doors and crumbling walls; she hadn't once stepped beyond that boundary. There seemed something so…_wrong _about it, like stepping inside the set boundary for an exhibit at a museum and touching the artifact.

"Is…that okay?" she asked, admittedly, lamely.

He shrugged again. "I don't see why not. I can't imagine the Ishvalan refugees living out in the open the whole time they were here."

"Ishvalan refugees?" Winry tilted her head curiously, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Yea, remember the ones I told you about a few years ago?" he looked to her for understanding, seeming to want to will it out of her, but she only shook her head. Edward sighed, and clarified hesitantly. "You know, from the last time I was here…when I heard about your parents…?

Winry's lips parted, realization at the cusp of her mind. Then she closed them with a resigned, quiet, "Oh."

Neither of them was particularly fond of recalling that particular time in their lives, for obvious reasons.

"So, do you want to go inside?" Edward asked again to break the silence.

"Nah," she shook her head. Winry looked back to the open area where they and their guides had set up camp for the night. She hadn't drifted off terribly far, seeing as it was dark and she wasn't much in the mood for getting lost before continuing east for Xing at dawn. "Should probably go back and try to catch some sleep before morning."

Edward nodded. He looked a little disappointed but said nothing edgewise. "I guess that would be the smart thing to do." He chuckled lightly, backing to allow her headway. "Although, Al says that the trip only gets easier from here, since the heat won't be as shocking as today was." They started walking back.

"With how cold it is _now_?"

"It's his word, not mine. Personally, I say the sun is hot as hell out here no matter what."

"Hmm," Winry mused. "Well the only experience you had was when a quarter of you was made of metal, so I don't think your opinion is entirely valid at this point." She laughed when his only response was a peeved frown and a grunt. "But at this moment, I can't say I don't agree with you. It _was _pretty hot. I hope Al's right."

"He probably is. But it's not like it's going to make a difference to me." Edward kicked his left foot at the crumbling rocks on the stone pavement, kicking up a small cloud of dust. "Stupid desert's the whole reason I didn't go to Xing to begin with."

Winry patted his shoulder consolingly as they arrived back at the campsite. They came to a stop and she turned around to face him. "Just think on the bright side. By this time tomorrow we won't have to think of crossing any deserts for another six months."

He grimaced. "I don't even want to _think _about next time, yet. We're not even done with this time."

"Well, guess I can't say I didn't try to make things more optimistic for tomorrow." Winry smiled brightly and kissed him on the cheek. She wrapped her arms around her herself again to bear off the brisk air. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, then."

'Yea," Edward nodded, and she started back to her own tent, taking no notice that he didn't make any move himself; at least not until he cleared his throat just as she lifted up the flap.

"What?"

He scratched the back of his neck, barely meeting her gaze. "You said you were cold…maybe it'd be easier to sleep if you weren't alone?"

She straightened, raising an eyebrow and wearing an intrigued smirk. "Is that a question or an invitation?"

It took Edward moment after getting flustered to finally grit out, "Would you like to come sleep with me?"

Winry smiled, resisting the urge to tease him anymore. It was too cold to do that. "Just let me get my pillow and blanket."

And as though there had really been a doubt, the answer to the question turned out to be yes.

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If you didn't catch it, this was set after the manga, after Ed comes back from the west. I just assume they would end up taking a trip to Xing at one point or another.

Reviews aren't necessary, but they _are _appreciated.


	19. Deep in Thought

_Fullmetal Alchemist _is a toy that I cannot keep. I'm only allowed to play with it.

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**What If?**

_What if nothing had gone wrong?_

_What if Dad never left? What if Mom never got sick and died? What if Winry's parents were never sent off to Ishval and murdered? What if Al and I never performed human transmutation?_

_Where would we be now? How would those things change everything?_

_For starters, if he never left, mom wouldn't have been so lonely and probably would still be living. She would've gotten help sooner, had more reason to live, or something along those lines._

_If she had never passed away, me and Al would have never tried to bring her back—duh._

_Winry would be happier if her parents were still alive. I know now that she still misses them._

_If we never committed the taboo… _

…

_The last five—no, not even that. The last twelve years would have been nonexistent, for one of two reasons:_

_Mom never died._

_Neither Al or I—well, at least me, because it __**was **__my idea—were born, because we never would have existed if what happened in Xerxes never occurred._

…_And if that never occurred, then none of those other things would've happened, probably none of us would exist, because history would be changed that significantly._

…

_Ack, this is giving me a headache. Stupid old man, this __**is**__ all his fault!_

_*sigh* Okay, theoretically speaking—forgetting all the other factors!—if Al and I never performed human transmutation, where would we be?_

_Well for one, we never would have had to carry that sin with us—which would be nice, but then we never would have learned our lesson either. _

_And we'd all be dead right now._

…

_Geez, way to be optimistic. But seriously, was there __**anything **__good that would've come out of that?_

…

_Hughes wouldn't have been killed._

…_But he would've died with everyone else anyway._

_Come to think of it, everyone we met along the way, we never would have known: Teacher, Mustang—really though, it wouldn't have killed me if that bastard never showed up in my life; would've spared me a load of grief—the Lieutenant and the rest of 'em, Gracia and Hughes, Nina…_

_Mmm._

…

_And really, what would be the chances of running into foreign royalty? Now I can tell everyone that I personally know the future emperor of Xing—not that many would believe me anyway—and get first class everything for free whenever I do head that way! At least I better; none of those things that Ling helped with pay back those room service bills. And we probably wouldn't have learned about alkahestry nor would Al have his little girlfriend. *snickers* Bean-girl._

_And—well, she probably would've ended up there someday. But what would've happened to Satera and her baby if we had never let Winry drag us around Rush Valley in that killer heat, if that pickpocket never stole my watch? That really was awesome, no matter how you look at it. Nerve wracking: definitely, but still awesome. And Winry gained so much out of that experience, too._

_And most of all, we're alive. _

_What if none of those bad things happened? Would I still be able to say that?_

…

_Doubt it._

…

_Hmph, we really did gain more than we lost, didn't we? Interesting…_

"Ed!"

"Edward!"

He started at the calls to his name. He was lounging back on the couch, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling with his feet kicked up and crossed on the armrest. Before he could even properly react and search out the sources of the familiar voices a hand was slapping at his feet, knocking them off their resting place. Bright blue eyes bore into his.

"I told you an _hour _ago. You, me and Al are going out to the river for lunch today… and here you are not even ready to go!"

Edward blinked and turned to his brother, who was standing slightly behind Winry with a basket in hand. He shook his head and sat up, scratching the back of his neck. She _had _told him, and he had said okay. It was a nice day, so where really was the harm in it? It wasn't like there was much else to do. But now, here he was looking the same as he had coming downstairs that morning from bed.

"Sorry, forgot." He chuckled lightly.

Winry only huffed. "Fine, but hurry up, or we're leaving without you." She started for the front door and was already outside before he had the chance to get up. His eyes followed her outside.

"What were you doing?"

Al's question brought his attention back inside, and Ed looked up at him, shrugging. "I don't know, just thinking, I guess."

"'Bout what?"

"Not much." He stood up, stretching his back, sighing satisfactorily to the crackling of his spine. Ed turned a knowing smirk to Al. "_Stuff_, mostly."

Alphonse nodded, offering a mirrored expression. "Must have been some pretty heavy _stuff _to forget about potential meals so easily."

"Yup. Say, what do you think about this theory—"

"Edward! Alphonse!" Winry shriek cut into their conversation from somewhere out in the yard, "Hurry up and get your asses out here or else the apple pie in this basket I have is all mine!"

Needless to say, it was readily agreed that any discussion for theories could wait until at least fair portions of dessert were had, and Edward rushed upstairs to get changed as Al followed Winry outside.

…_Hmm, giving eleven for ten. I wonder what Al will think of turning over equivalent exchange?_

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I was not expecting it to end this way at all…not that I'm not glad it did. It worked out quite well, actually, especially since I **really **don't like writing first person. It's so limited in detail, specifically when there are only thoughts to work with.

So yea, I think the most of us know where that last train of thought goes from here.

Until next time ~


	20. Abandoned

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**Abandoned**

_Hypocrite: that's what they call people like you._

That's what Edward kept grumbling silently to himself as he carried on down the dirt road back home. He carried a bag of groceries and an umbrella in the other, having been sent out into the foul-turning weather to pick them up. In his pocket, curled up and warm and content was the something he had _not _intended on picking up.

It happened completely by chance. Al was the observant one for these things, not him. In must have been the bright ginger coat peeking out of the shadows just as they passed his peripheral vision.

'The something' was a small kitten.

When Ed had seen it, it seemed about ready to collapse in on itself. It had been visibly shaking from the cold and looking even scrawnier drenched in the rainwater than it should have been. The state it was in made it all too obvious that the kitten wasn't going to survive much longer without help.

He blamed it on the stupid umbrella. If it was one of those new, fancy ones that popped open with the press of a button and not the manual one that required two hands he never would have seen it. Never would have known, never would have cared.

_You're such a sucker! You're never going to hear the end of it when Al finds out._

Ed wouldn't fail to point out that he had looked around for someone else that would possibly see it, or at least pass it on to. It was just his luck that nobody was outside. Who in their right mind would be anyway? It was cold and wet. He certainly wouldn't. It hadn't been his choice to make this trip, but it was either that or no dinner.

Before he had the chance to force himself to walk away, large, sad green eyes looked up at him.

Pity did _not _have anything to do with why Ed picked up the kitten quickly and stuffed it in his pocket like a thief with a disgruntled huff. It was because it was abandoned, probably left to fend for itself in a cheap cardboard box of a home that had fallen apart. He _identified _with it. Nothing more, nothing less.

He had an idea of what it was like to live abandoned and homeless. Nobody deserved to live and die that way.

"I'm going to be given so much grief for this." Edward grouched, aware of the purring kitten as he trudged up the muddy path to the looming yellow house just ahead.

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	21. Precious Treasure

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**Purpose**

"What was this doing in your room?"

I was an innocent enough question, Edward thought. He only wanted to know what one of her wrenches was doing in the desk drawer upstairs. Apparently, Winry thought so too, as she turned around to acknowledge his inquiry. At least she did at first; upon catching wind of what he was holding up in his hand, her opinion on the question was a whole other story.

He really should have known better.

Winry snatched the wrench from his hand and knocked him on the head with it. The hit was only hard enough to make him stumble backwards and dot his vision. It honestly wasn't the worst Edward had been served before, but that didn't make him any less angry.

"Geez, woman! What the hell was that for? I was only asking a question-."

"What the hell were _you_ doing in my room going through my stuff?"

"I was looking for a pen! The one I have stopped working." He absently rubbed at the receding ache on his head, snatching the wrench back from her. "I just wanted to know what this was doing up there."

Winry frowned and huffed and turned back around on her stool, busying herself with her work again. "I can't use it anymore. It's worn out."

His brow scrunched up and he bounced the wrench in his hand. "Then why do you still have it?"

Another simple question, but this time she didn't even respond at all.

"Winry?"

Winry shook her head. If Edward could have seen her face she was blushing. "Because you gave it to me."

He almost didn't hear her. He thought it almost would have been better if he didn't, because he didn't really know what to say to that. Edward stared at her back as she tried to ignore that he was there, and then he looked down at the tool in his hand, gripping and turning it over repeatedly.

After some time Winry spoke up, jolting him out of his reverie.

"…put it back for me, please?"

"Huh? Oh yea, sure."

Edward nodded and went back upstairs with the intention to do as Winry asked. But he never did.

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Winry didn't even bother to switch on a lamp once she closed her bedroom door behind her. She knew her own room well enough to get over to the chair she'd left her pajamas hanging on the morning before. And the moonlight filtering through the curtains left her with enough to see by.

She'd been up for a day and a half. It hadn't happened intentionally. There was no rush or deadline to meet, but with the exception of meals she just hadn't stopped working. She'd been in the mode to just keep going, to do just a little more, and then a little bit more until finally there was nothing else to do unless she started up another project.

Considering the time and day, Winry decided it best if she slept for a few hours first.

It might have been easier to go about that if she had turned on the light and removed the wrench that was lying on her pillow.

Winry rubbed at her head and reached for tool that _was not where it belonged. _She was tired, but not enough to not remember it was probably the one Ed had found in her desk yesterday.

"Idiot, I told him to put it back, not toss it on my bed." She grumbled, pausing at the familiar crunch of paper under her fingers as she gripped the wrench. She took it out from under her and turned on the lamp. She half noticed that the metallic instrument looked a little different…felt different too… as she unfolded the paper.

_I didn't give you the wrench so it could gather dust in a desk drawer. I gave it to you so you could use it as it was purposed. I had Al help me fix it up. It's been transformed into a carbon-based alloy, so it won't wear out as easily. It'll be lighter, too._

Winry looked at the wrench, weighing it in her hand and smiled lightly. Setting the note onto the table and switching off the lamp, she snuggled back under the covers, clutching her beloved tool beside her. Tomorrow she'd have to tell Ed thank you.

She couldn't wait to put her precious treasure back to use.

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	22. Dark

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**Fair Play**

The power went out. First a flicker, alarming her; and then _vwoosh_, as everything running on electricity died out.

Winry didn't mind the dark terribly much, but being in the basement without light was different than being upstairs without light. In the basement, where she just happened to be that stormy evening when the power went out, it was so pitch black that you couldn't even see your own hand right in front of you. Because of that, she decided to wait a few minutes to see if someone else would go turn on the generator instead of groping around the dark and possibly hurting herself trying to get upstairs.

One minute. Two minutes.

Groaning tetchily, Winry got up and took her chances.

She _really_ wished someone else would go outside to do this instead.

The wind howled nastily around her, flipping the hood of her raincoat off her head several times to the point where she simply didn't care anymore. With her arm, Winry shielded her eyes from her flickering hair and pelting raindrops. The lantern in her hand swung high on its handle like a daring child on a swing. Lightning snapped through the air and thunder rumbled about the clouds.

The elements weren't as ravishing as she knelt down to the ground beside the generator, but by no means did she want to be dilly dallying around.

While she was shuffling the lantern around, finding a place where it wouldn't fall over but still give her the light she needed, the shadow of a figure she was to busy to notice came up behind her.

Winry screamed when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

She swirled around on her ankles and fell on her backside into the muddy ground, instinctively reaching for a wrench that was not on her person. The rush of adrenaline drowned out her hearing and sight, and it took her a moment to gather who had snuck up on her. She heard the laughter first—louder than the wind—and then in the faint shadow of fallen light…

"Edward!" she shrieked, pounding her fists on the ground since she couldn't get up fast enough to pound _him_. If anything, Ed laughed harder at her chagrined glare as he offered a hand to help her up. When he pulled her up Winry punched him in the chest like she wanted, choking him up enough to get him to stop…although, it did nothing to wipe off that damned grin.

"I'm sorry." Ed apologized past a contradicting chuckle. "I couldn't resist. Sorry."

"You sure don't sound like it." Winry muttered and he knelt down to grab the lantern and finish what she hadn't. Once there was light emanating from the windows again they headed back inside.

Before Winry could ascend too far up the porch steps, Ed grabbed her wrist and held her down. "Let me go. It's pouring and freezing _and I'm mad at you_." She shook her arm, trying to pry her arm free.

"I know, just listen for a second."

She narrowed her eyes impatiently.

"I'll let you push me to the ground. Turnabouts fair play." Edward explained when she eyed him skeptically. She pressed her lips together thoughtfully.

Offhandedly, she noticed that the lightning part of thestorm seemed to have passed.

She shook her head and turned around to go inside, answering stiffly, "Come on and get inside. You need to dry off and put a warm compress on your leg. Try to hide it but I still know it's been acting up all day." He sighed, as though defeated and followed her closely up to the house.

The corner of Winry's lips upturned ever so slightly.

Ed didn't even know what hit him. Not until he looked up from the muddy ground to see her smirking down at him.

"It wasn't fair play if you were expecting it, Ed." Winry simply said and went indoors, leaving him to help himself up.

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If I hadn't been an idiot and accidentally deleted them when moving the files, I would have had two other chapter updates by now. But since I was, I should be getting them up sometime this week…hopefully still as good as I remember the ones I deleted being. :P

Please, bother to leave a review. ;)

Until next time~


	23. Blood

**A/****N-** _There's a reason I go back and read old chapters and such months after I wrote them, aside from boredom, that is. I must say, this is definitely one that needed help, and it's follow-up chapter. It was just not getting across what I had hoped. But I fixed that now. Let's see how this __rewrite __works for you. _

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**Firsts for Everything, Pt. I**

Edward wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he got up to answer the banging door. There had been a sense of foreboding as he did, but that did nothing to prepare him for what greeted him on the other side.

The first thing he saw was red, literally.

There was only one...two times in his life he could recall seeing so much blood coming from one person, both times from himself. This time it wasn't him, though; it couldn't be. Not unless he was dreaming, which he was positive he wasn't. This was too vivid, too real to be a dream: the panicky and teary face of the young woman who could hardly be older than himself and the equally young man with the contorted face leaning heavily on her and bleeding profusely from his left arm, or at least the mangled flesh and muscle that was left of it…

All Edward could do was stare.

"Please...he needs...my husband, help him!"

The woman's desperate, anxious plea was what finally shook Edward into helping her bring the man inside, although he was having trouble remembering what he should do from there. His mind was drawing a blank, rational thought no longer as simple as it used to be. It took longer than he would later realize he liked to think of exactly what help was needed, even if it was, in reality, only seconds. It should have been obvious.

"_Winry! _Somebody_...get out here!_"

It was taking too long. Edward glanced down at the man—passed out now and deadweight. It was no wonder, there was blood everywhere it shouldn't be. The whole side of the woman's dress looked to be drenched in it and there was a growing puddle on the floor and a trail leading behind it...

He swallowed.

"Ed, what—oh!" Winry finally came around the corner, suddenly rushing over and taking the woman's place at the man's side, his blood staining her clothes instead. "Granny! Get ready, we've got a fresh one!"

_Fresh? _He didn't have a chance to think about how wrong that sounded before Winry was motioning him to help her carry the man into the other room. He didn't need to be told where, fortunately. It was the same one it had been eight years ago, now uncomfortably familiar. Given the slowness of his mental processing though, it wasn't so much a matter of _knowing _as it was being guided.

Winry supported the upper body as she instructed him to lift up the man's legs so they could get him on the bed. After that, it had become obvious that his assistance was no longer needed, but Edward couldn't really bring himself to tear his eyes away. Now that Winry was getting to work sedating the man, and Pinako was gathering together all the instruments and such, he was left with the oddest sense of surrealism and déjà vu. It was almost as though he were no longer a part of himself, like he was standing outside his own body, wavering. Every sense was a slow blur; nothing seemed clear anymore, sight or sound.

He saw Winry yelling something at him.

His shoulder was shaken fiercely, slowly drawing his attention behind him. "Ed!" Al was looking at him urgently. "Come on." He nodded towards the door and pulled on his shoulder again. Edward followed, Al shutting the door behind him once they were outside.

The younger of the two sighed. "You okay?"

"Huh?"

Alphonse frowned, concern showing through eminently. It had taken too long to distract his brother's attention from the operating bed, and Winry had been trying to long before he'd stepped in. Al had an idea of what to think of it, but he wasn't sure and now definitely wasn't the time to figure it out. Even if he tried, he wasn't going to get and answer out of Ed. Pressing his lips together, Al started back down the hall, intent on cleaning up the floors and outside. He pat his brother on the back encouragingly, his smile small. "You might want to sit down…keep Mrs. Tompson company. She's in the guest room down the hall."

Although he heard it and took the advice, Edward was far too gone to appreciate his little brother's perceptiveness. There was just too much to think about.

_To be continued..._

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**A/N- **_Personally, I think this is so much better; much more in the moment and descriptive. Expect the continuation soon. It'll be up just as soon as I figure out for myself how to put Ed's problem into words... _


	24. Heal

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**Firsts for Everything, Pt. II**

From the elbow up; that was all Winry and Pinako had been able to salvage.

One would think it'd be easy for him to wrap his head around the idea that half of that man's arm was no long a part of him. After all, he had lost two of his own before. But that's where the similarities ended. Aside from the fact that he had accepted it was something he deserved, when it came down to it, in a sense, his own limbs had only been held ransom; still living, still attainable at the right price. His leg no longer was of course, which was okay; it was beyond his expectations enough just having his arm back. That was getting aside from the point, though.

Mr. Tompson...Greg, he had learned his name was, was never getting that half of his left arm back.

Shaking his head, Edward covered his face with his hands, brushing them upward into his hair before letting them drop to his knees. The emergency had come in almost a week ago; the tension was past, the hard part was over, but it was all still rolling around madly in his head. Every morning started with the notion that something was out of place and the reminder following quickly after. The smell of sickness—not homeliness—filtrated through the house, moans filled the day and night, Mrs. Tompson...Reyna, was always downstairs by the time he ambled down there for breakfast and never left until long after dinner. Had she not had a toddler back home who couldn't be watched at night, Edward suspected she never would leave at all.

There was no way he could _not _forget what had happened, what had been seen. While it had become easier to ignore his inner conflicts for more important things, they were still there, itching just enough to drive him mad.

At least Reyna had finally left a few minutes ago. Maybe it was rude…heartless to think that way, but to him it was just another reminder that he didn't have to worry about. She asked too much, worried too much…

_That's not fair. She has every right to._

Groaning, he closed his eyes and fell back against the couch. He was just exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally...

"Are you okay?"

Edward looked over as Winry sat down beside him. He hadn't seen much of her in the last few days. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd really spoken. "Yea, I'm fine." He answered gruffly, pulling himself up and folding his hands over his mouth, staring in the direction of the bulletin board across the room.

Winry pressed her lips together in a frown, the same way Al had the other day. "You've seemed a little out of it since Mr. Tompson got here." She said quietly.

The corner of his mouth tilted up just barely but not for very long. Winry was observant, he'd give her that. Or maybe she'd just been conspiring with his brother. That was just as likely.

"Don't you have other things to do?" He hadn't meant it harshly; it was an honest question. But given everything, it probably hadn't come out that way. Her response was quick, as though she had been expecting it.

"Granny can handle it. And Al's helping a lot, too." Winry paused, touching his shoulder. "I'm pretty sure right here is where I need to be."

Of course. She wasn't going to leave him be now. It was just more of a frustration to him that he couldn't decide whether he liked that or not.

When Edward didn't answer, she sighed. It almost sounded like resignation and for a second he thought it was when she took back her hand. But Winry never got up. Her shadow never moved. He didn't dare to look at her, afraid of what might happen if he did. She would see right through him, and he never did like feeling so vulnerable.

"Which one are you looking at?"

The question wasn't startling. He had felt it coming; it wasn't like Winry to stay quiet for too long, not like this anyway. There was no reason for why he answered though. "No one in particular."

There were a lot of photos on that bulletin board that he was looking at. None of the new ones, he could say that much. It was mostly those ones taken years ago, of younger days long since passed. Ones that, through the twists and turns of his mind, turned into images that were not captured and by all means never should be. They were images that he never wanted but had as a consequence of his own faults; scenes of him that had lain dormant and almost forgotten until recently.

Amazing how a few months could fool him into thinking he was past those nightmares.

"What was it like for you the first time?"

"...You mean like the other day?"

He nodded.

Winry closed her eyes and sighed heavily, making Edward wish even more that he hadn't asked. It must not have been pleasant thinking back on that, if his own experience meant anything and his suspicion regarding hers was true. "Scary. I was...terrified, really. It was unexpected. I didn't know what to think—all of a sudden there seemed to be so much going on at once." She tilted her head, trying to see him and his reaction in the dimly lit room.

Gritting his teeth, he forced it out. "It was me, wasn't it?"

Winry had pulled back her lips, gazing at him almost sadly, before slowly nodding her head. "Yea. But why…?"

Edward shrugged. He really didn't know. Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment still. Her answer, just as he'd been expecting, certainly made him feel worse. At least that was a familiar feeling though, something he could _deal with._

"Ed, look at me."

Before he could deny the gentle command he listened to it, tiredly staring directly into her softening blue eyes. Her lips, down-turned, slowly lifted into something more sympathetic. That she had figured him out...he didn't really care anymore. It wasn't as humiliating as it had seemed only minutes ago. Besides, Winry was good at fixing things.

Or maybe, _maybe_, that had nothing to do with it. Maybe he really just trusted her _that_ much.

"You do know you don't have to be so strong all the time, right?" Winry asked softly, tilting her head just so.

That Edward chose not to answer was an answer enough for Winry. She scooted closer, tugging at his arm a few times to pull him back beside her, leaning comfortably against her. Then she began to massage her fingers just below his neck between his shoulders. Edward forced himself not to close his eyes and doze off right there, no matter how good he imagined it would feel. As though in answer to that, she forced him to lay his head on her shoulder. He fought against it but she was determined.

"Nobody's going to see you." She stated exasperatedly. "Just relax."

No more had to be said. He let his guard down.

After a little while, Winry asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Edward scoffed, feeling exhausted. "Not really."

A part of him expected her to protest, say that talking would help or something along those lines. But all she said was, "Alright.

"...Just know that it's normal, okay? Remember what Granny always says about automail installation making even the toughest war heroes cry?"

"Yea." Really, how could he not? There were too many times he'd felt like doing the same, even though he never did. He deserved every ounce of pain that came with it. Not to mention there were worse things, like not being able to feel at all.

"It hurts for a while, but it'll go away eventually. Trust me. Just give it time to pass and soon enough it'll be just another thing you wished you didn't have to see."

"Fine." It made sense. "Still think its stupid, though. I've seen worse things."

Edward could just image the grimace she made with that line of thought, and wasn't exactly proud of it. Winry was trying to make it better and he still couldn't help making it worse. "Yea, well..." She paused, perhaps realizing how quickly she was discrediting his notion. "Maybe." She concluded softly, almost remorsefully but still doubtful, like there was more she wanted to say. Winry just pulled him closer. "Maybe."

Edward never remembered falling asleep, but when he woke up on the couch early the next morning with a blanket draped over him and another folded as a pseudo pillow under his neck, he did know he felt a lot better than he remembered feeling in a while.

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**A.N. - **_This is a lot better than it originally was (if you don't know what I mean, I replaced it). It made sense to me, but that's because I wrote it. Did I do well enough for it to make sense to you? Please reassure me. I won't be totally happy with this until I know._


	25. Mischief Managed

**Antics**

While most are inclined to deny it, Edward would admit with absolution that he had, on several occasions, gotten into mischief. He was a man of truth; honesty was the best policy and _this _was, plain and simple: a fact. And while the lot of this mischief had been allotted towards those unfortunate enough to come in its path for the span of his adolescence, it was not beneath him to aim it toward those closer to home.

It certainly didn't help that the way the Xingese hotel was laid out, the building with the lobby and the one with the rooms were adjacent to each other with a nicely landscaped courtyard including exotic shrubbery and flowers and a pond with koi fish in between. It provided for a _lovely_ view for anyone placed on the north side of the hallway and for those like him, an inconspicuous view into the indoor dining area adjoined with the lobby.

Especially in the morning when unsuspecting persons were waiting for the other half of their party to join them for breakfast. "Hehehe…"

"What are you doing?"

And just like that every inch of amusement drained from Edward's face, eyes widening much like that of a deer in the headlights as he flicked the simple white curtain back in place and turned around. The drapery fluttered at the abrupt disturbance, much like his own stomach toward Winry's sudden appearance behind him. He thought she had been in the bathroom getting ready! When did she come out?

"Nothing." Edward stood up and stretched his arms out, making a hasty cover-up. "Ready to go?"

He had faced more dangerous things than that before and never broke under pressure, but when Winry quirked a suspicious eyebrow Edward had to make an effort not to let it get to him. Off-handedly, he imagined that crossing her arms would have completed the picture of doom-dom and been his demise. But instead of doing that, she briskly crossed the room to his side with the intent to… well he didn't know for sure but it wasn't going to be good. There was nothing he could do now that wouldn't be digging his own grave deeper.

Winry went right past him and looked out the window.

Briefly, he wondered what exactly he was so worried about. This was _his _brother; he had a right to such underhanded plays! And besides, it wasn't like he was doing anything _bad_. Being mischievous was worlds different from being naughty.

Still, Winry's silence was unnerving. Hopefully, if worse came to shove, the suspense would kill him before she got her hands on him.

No, he wasn't doing anything wrong. He was doing nothing. Setting himself straight, Edward shoved his hands in his pockets and waited casually, rocking back and forth of his heels. _I'm in the right. There's nothing she can hang me for. Just calm down._

And he did_. _

…Until she turned around and walked right past him to put on her shoes.

But that wasn't what scared him. It was _that smile; _that small, _innocent_, smile.

"Winry…?" Ed's voice wavered as he cautiously stopped beside her.

She put down her foot and stood up and started for the door. He followed, thankful that he had already put his own shoes on earlier. Losing her now would be bad. Winry didn't say anything until they were at the door, she opening it to leave.

"I wonder how Al and Mei will feel about being spied on." She thought aloud curiously, suggestively, wasting no time in bouncing away down the hall.

His eyes widened quickly then narrowed. _Stupid! That's the bigger threat! Who cares if Winry knows, __**they **__aren't supposed to know! _And although his brother was one matter that Ed was certain he could handle, Al's little girlfriend was a complete other. He didn't know her well enough, and he had no doubt that she knew techniques that would have him pleading for mercy. Ed also had no doubt that if Mei decided to pull one of those moves on him neither his brother nor Winry would be willing to him out.

They would probably laugh.

Winry was already halfway to the stairs. "_You wouldn't_."

"You don't need me to answer that." She grinned back, tone sickly sweet.

"Don't!"

"Make me!"

Edward barely missed the door as if shut automatically on him and ran, yelling after her to stop when she started running away. Maybe if he caught Winry first, he'd have a chance to convince her to let him survive the remainder of their trip.

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I feel like I exaggerated this too much. Oh well, I guess it fits the title. Let me know what you think.


	26. Cat

**Irony**

It wasn't out of the ordinary for Winry to go into Edward's room in the mornings—while it was still morning—to wake him up. It was actually a habit that had quickly become ritual not long after he and Al had returned home. Sometimes, when she wasn't in a hurry to get started on anything, she'd watch as she let him sleep a little longer. This morning was no different.

Winry wasn't careful about opening the closed door; there was no need to be. The hinges weren't going to make any squeals or creeks with two well-stocked mechanics living in the house. And besides, Ed was a heavy sleeper. It would take more than a little noise—even this late in the morning—to wake him up.

Something seemed off.

She paused just inside the door and carefully took stock of the room. It was a mess with clothes and books strewn about, which bothered her but wasn't anything new. The curtains were open as usual. Everything seemed to still be in its general place…

Shaking it off, Winry continued into the room. It was probably nothing anyway. And how was she supposed to know what was wrong—if there was something wrong? It wasn't like she lived in here. Although it was starting to look—and smell—like she need to start taking out some maintenance enforcement. She twitched her nose, making for the window latch first and foremost.

When Winry turned around from opening the window, she discovered what it was that had seemed so out of place.

Someone was taking her spot on the bed.

Someone furry.

…and it wasn't Den.

Quirking and eyebrow, first wondering since when they had brought home a cat, a slow smirk crept onto her lips. This was certainly an interesting turn of events. …One that Al was sure to appreciate.

Quietly snickering, Winry hurried back out into the hallway and sought Al out. He was still in the kitchen finishing breakfast. She waved her hand at him, motioning him to follow. "Al, come on. You have to see this!"

He looked up from the paper laid out on the table in front of him, eyeing her quizzically. "Winry…? What is it? I thought you were waking Ed up…"

"I was. Just come on." Winry motioned him again, smirking delightfully.

Still unsure what to think of it, Al pushed back his chair and followed her down the hall to his brother's room. "What's going on—?"

Winry held up a finger to shush him and led him into the room, walking around to the end of the bed and pointing at the sight she found so amusing. Al looked at her curiously a moment longer before turning to see what the big deal was.

…And blinked.

There was a ginger kitten curled up asleep in the curve of his brother's arm.

_Since when…?_

"When did we get a cat?" Al turned to Winry incredulously. She shrugged her shoulders.

This was crazy. There was a cat in his brother's bed, and for all he knew Ed hated cat's. So why was there a kitten _right there_, obviously very comfortable and seeing no threat from being so close to his volatile sibling? Or maybe…

From his knowledge—because Al did like cats and therefore knew a thing or two about them—it took time for cats to adapt to their new homes and the people that lived there, even if they were strays, which this one certainly seemed to be; it was so scrawny. They were very wary of their surroundings. It was in their nature. So this little kitten had to have been here for some time, living right everybody's noses…

A matching grin to Winry's had been slow in coming, but it came and was somehow even more dangerous.

_Oh, the irony!_

Whether Winry had forgotten to or not, Al took the initiative in waking his brother up, nudging him roughly in the shoulder. "Hey Ed, wake up!"

"…few mo' minutes Winry." Was his mumbled response.

"I didn't know I sounded like Winry, _Brother._" Al emphasized the title, smirking lightly at Ed's sleep-addled confusion. He could give the benefit of the doubt since Winry usually was the one to wake him up, but given the situation… "Although, we'd both like to know who your little friend here is."

Edward scrunched up his brow and slit open an eye. "Al…?" He opened his other eye and pushed himself up a little, suddenly looking more awake. "What going on, is something wrong?"

Al shook his head. "How 'bout you tell _us _what's going on."

"...Huh?"

Apparently, he wasn't _that _awake yet. At least not enough to realize himself what was going on, although he was still looking curiously past him at Winry. Looking behind him, Al saw Winry point down at the bed beside Ed, who just stared back at them blankly.

Rolling his eyes, Al clarified. "The kitten, Ed."

"Kitten…?" Edward's eyes widened and he finally looked down at the sheets beneath him, finding the undisturbed animal resting at his side. "Crap. You were supposed to stay under the bed!"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Winry finally spoke up. "We wouldn't have judged you." Of course, judging by the tone both brothers understood that to mean the complete opposite, although their reactions toward her differed greatly.

"I was going to." Ed shot back angrily. "Just not like—ugh!" He picked up the kitten by the scruff, who mewed in protest and held her out. "She's for you Al. Take her."

More out of sympathy for the upset kitten than his brother's demand, Al obliged, cradling it against him. He scratched her—apparently it was a she—absently on the neck.

"Now get out. I don't need an audience to get ready."

Al nodded, smiling softly and giving his full attention to his new kitten as he left the room. What Winry did…he didn't know or really care at the moment. He was too happy. His kitten mewed softly, pushing against his hand. He chuckled and shook his head. For all the times he used to try and hide strays from his brother when he was still in his armor, the cat he finally got to keep was one that Ed had been trying to hide from him. For what reason, who knew? But Al supposed he'd find out soon enough.

Still, the irony really was just too much.


	27. Heaven

**Sharing**

"Why are you on lying on the kitchen floor?" Winry had come in looking for some iced water, only realizing Edward was in there when she turned to the icebox for some ice. Whatever reason he had was muffled and went through the cracks between the floor boards. "What was that?"

"It's the coolest place I could find."

"Well, you're gonna have to move it. I'm thirsty." She nudged at his side with her foot and he grumbled, but pushed himself up and out of the way to sit against the cabinets. If it weren't so hot Winry would've thought it pathetic but as it was, the heat sapped away any energy to be had, leaving everyone shrouded in a stuffy cloud of lethargy.

After retrieving her ice and water Winry slid down next to him, although not too close. That would just make the stuffiness worse. Edward peered over at her as she tilted back her neck and relished the cool refreshment running down her throat.

"Hey!" Winry nearly spit out the water she'd yet to swallow when he snatched the glass away and put it against his forehead, smiling contently as the condensation helped to cool him off, then took a drink. "Get your own!" she snatched the glass back before he could swallow, and he barely managed to keep the water from spilling all over himself.

_...That actually doesn't sound so bad. _Winry contemplated, imagining the cold liquid running down her sweaty skin.

"But you're right there." He whined. "Why waste the energy?"

Winry only rolled her eyes. It was too hot to argue and besides, she'd only be putting her own foot in her mouth. She wasn't exactly doing much today either. Who was she to tell him to do something? But _still_…

"The icebox is right there beside you. Grab some ice."

Edward slowly turned his head and examined it like it was some curious contraption. Then he reached over and pulled it open, falling half over to grab some of the solidified liquid.

"Grab that dishtowel over there." He pointed aimlessly beyond her. She grabbed the one hanging beside her on the oven rack and handed it over to him.

"What are you doing?"

He sat back, grinning cleverly, and she watched as he dumped the ice into the towel and folded it up, sighing contentedly when he put it against his forehead.

Winry narrowed her eyes then looked almost accusingly down at the quarter full glass in her hand… then back at Edward.

"Hey…!"

She grabbed his wrist and hovering over his shoulder, replaced the makeshift ice bag onto her own forehead, smiling just as blithely as Edward had and relaxing. Here was a little piece of heaven on an otherwise hellish day.

"My idea… and turnabouts fair play."

He quieted.

"Fair enough."


	28. Hold My Hand

**Small Solaces**

She couldn't sleep. It wasn't that she didn't want to. She was tired. But her mind just couldn't stop reeling, even after a couple of days. Doing something was a better use of nightly hours than lying in bed not sleeping, so she went downstairs.

There was plenty to keep her occupied down there. Heck, it was enough to keep her occupied anywhere she went really. It was sad in almost every way imaginable. Fortunately her grandma had opted to keep her home from school for a while. She didn't think she could handle that with the way she must have looked. That just begged for questions that she did not desire answering, nor thought she could.

…_best just to let everyone think all of us came down with something for now._

That wouldn't last for long, though. The absence of three children for extended periods of time—_unexpectedly_—in such a small town… people would get curious. Hopefully, Pinako would think of something by then.

The last step of the stairs creaked underneath Winry and she winced. Everything seemed so much louder when it was so quiet. She didn't want to be heard. Sure, it wasn't loud enough to wake up her grandma, but the patient's room was right there. While it was unlikely with how doped up on sedatives and painkillers Edward was… well, the last thing she wanted was to risk setting him off this late at night. Then her grandma would certainly carry on with the threat to knock her up with those same narcotics and send her back to bed for the next few days.

And not to mention—although she highly doubted he would tell on her—Al was awake, too. Although he would no doubt appreciate the company that she was willing to give at the moment, Winry's concerns were elsewhere. He'd understand that, but... maybe later she'd try and seek him out… if he hadn't decided to wander outside for a walk again.

_It must get so lonely._

Winry's face twisted up and she rubbed at her eyes before quietly pushing inside the room, lit only by moonlight. That was one thing they had learned rather quickly. At least for now, until the trauma started to pass, it was best not to leave Ed in a completely dark room.

…_wasn't like that before._

After a week's worth of nights, Winry was finally discovering—or maybe it was just hitting her—that a lot more than what she saw on the surface had changed. More than she could imagine. And while it threatened to scare the life out of her, she would still offer all she could to them and hope it would be enough in the end. What else could she do? What else was she supposed to do? Even after all the secrets, the pushing away, the total disregard that they… well, at least Ed had treated her with, she still cared about them. They were her only friends; only c_lose _friends. They needed the comfort right now and Winry would give it, even if she was in dire need of it herself.

The small sounds that greeted her entrance weren't as alerting as they should have been. Even if they weren't surprising, they still made Winry want to cry. It hurt more than she could imagine.

…_shouldn't be like this._

Taking a deep breath, Winry went up to Edward's bedside and removed the dried-up towel from his forehead, setting it aside to sift her fingers up into his sticky bangs to loosen them up. "Your fever's spiked up again." She whispered to herself before pulling herself away and soaking the cloth in the basin set aside on the counter, making sure to wring it out.

The water dripped loudly into the bucket and a slow whimper reached her ears.

Winry quickly finished up and replaced the towel on Ed's forehead, brushing her hand over his greasy hair soothingly. "I'm here, here you go, this will cool you off; it's okay."

_No it's not._

But for now it was okay to lie, because that was what needed to be heard.

It was dark, but there was no mistaking the unfocused eye peeking up at her from underneath the cloth. Nor was there any mistaking the single syllable that whispered to her, too dreamily…_hopefully_, to be real.

"Mom…?"

Winry's eyes widened and she opened her mouth.

It was one of the side-effects of the medications, the trauma: a hallucination. She knew that, not because she had witnessed a patient experience one before; Pinako had never let her have the chance. She'd said that it could be quite startling at times. And Winry knew her stuff too. After all, she hadn't been written up for detention for sleeping during class for nothing. She knew what the books _and _the labels said.

But this… it didn't scare her so much as take her off guard. All the same the first thing she could think of was to refute it.

It was barely a brush against the side of her hand, but enough to draw her attention down.

_Wasn't his hand tucked underneath the blanket?_

It wasn't anymore.

Winry shut her mouth, feeling like a wave had rushed past her with that small contact. Some sort of sentiment was blowing her mind to a depth that she couldn't quite get herself to understand. Sympathy? Empathy? Something else? Something more? Whatever it was, she no longer had the heart to say no.

Instead she held his hand.

And somehow, somewhere along the line, she found herself hugging him too.

"It's alright. I'm here. You're gonna be okay."

It may have been a lie, something Edward would never remember had happened, but for now it was a comfort; for both of them, because it made her feel a little lighter inside too.

"You're gonna be okay. I promise."

_You have to be._

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I wasn't feeling well when I wrote this and was in need of some comfort myself. Hope I was able to produce something non-mainstream, 'cause that was my goal.

I ask as the hypocrite I am: please review.


	29. Introduction

**Awesome**

Meeting new people was a part of life, more so for some than others. He was one of those people. Being a traveler, that's what meeting people was. There was nothing to get anxious over when doing it… unless they meant you harm. There were plenty of those types of people he'd come across in his time, unfortunately. But he hadn't let it get to him. It was just a fact of life, a consequence of the path he'd chosen and he had to deal with it. edHe'd turned out okay in the end. Maybe a little scratched up, a few broken appendages—bone _and _metal—a cracked skull... but overall, okay.

Today he was going to be introduced to someone new; a little someone who posed absolutely no threat to him nor had any intention of being imposing. Not to mention he'd had _months_ to prepare for this day. His nerves shouldn't have been standing on end ever since Winry had woken him up at three in the morning two days ago.

He thought he had been prepared for this!

But now Edward was realizing that it was only just now starting to hit him.

_This is real._

...Not that he didn't know that before. If Edward had ever _hinted _at doubting the existence of his own child in the past months, Winry most likely would have beaten him into a senseless pulp before drilling it into his head that she wasn't gaining weight for her own benefit. It had just been real in a different way then. Real in the sense that he had no reason not to believe it. He had no reason not to believe her when she told him, no reason not to believe there was some reason behind the morning sicknesses, no reason not to believe there wasn't a reason behind her extreme (and sometimes scary) mood swings... for the most part at least. And as the months drew by, there was even more reason for him to believe it, like the aforementioned weight gain and the rolling kicks along her stomach that he occasionally had the awing opportunity to feel.

But now it was _real. _Really... real.

Surreal, too; like Winry stabbing him in the back to wake him up the other night, almost constantly moaning and groaning about the pain, nearly crushing his fingers and screaming his name like a curse, and then the tiny wailing that cut across a sudden silence were all a dream...

Personally, Edward found it just as exciting as fear-inspiring.

"Would you like to meet your new son?"

It took him a moment to realize Pinako was addressing him and draw his attention away from Winry, who had wearily opened her eyes to pointedly look at him and then behind him.

Had it been any other time, he may have been surprised at how receptively he reacted to the simple, life-changing question despite the old—and some new—fears that had had too much time to surface and wreck there havoc on his mind. _But_, this wasn't any other time. This was special. Special, because Edward was hard-pressed to recall a time when he had felt any happier or prouder as the tiny boy in his arms began to sleep of the hard work he'd just been through.

"What do you think?"

He had to tear his eyes away from the wonder before him to meet Winry's smiling ones, and when he did all he could do was grin and kiss her on the forehead.

There really was only one way to describe it.

"That this is _awesome_."

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I've had to have rewritten this up to three times. Finally, last night it hit me and as I was finishing it up I had to keep telling myself: keep it simple. So here it is.

Please review; it's the only way I know how bad I've done. ;)


	30. Hero

**Finders Keepers**

It had been queer how much of a liking his ginger kitten, Macy, had taken to his brother. Al had never known Edward to have a good aura around animals… with the exception of dogs; they tended to get excited when he was around, which was kind of weird and funny at the same time. But cats, pandas, birds… even fish! For one reason or another, none of them liked his older brother. Sure, he could be loud, intolerable, obnoxious… okay. Maybe it wasn't that much of a question, but still.

Macy was different, though. The only reason he wasn't standing around making a point of scratching his head about it was because Ed wasn't acting abnormally about it. Or maybe he should say his brother wasn't condoning it. And that _wasn't _putting it lightly. It was clear Edward would prefer the cat leave him alone now that she was no longer his responsibility, but he wasn't really forcing the issue.

Everyone was lounging around the fireplace, listening to a radio show. Al was laid across the chair with his feet kicked up and Macy on his lap. Across from him at one end of the sofa, Ed was reading a book and at the other end, Winry with Den curled up over her feet. Pinako was sitting on the other chair, manning the radio.

A sudden loud gust of wind rattled the windows and rain shattered against all sides of the house, momentarily sending the radio on static.

Macy jumped from her spot, a little fluffed up, and raced under the table, jumping up on the sofa with ease and curling herself into the small crevice between the armrest and Ed's folded up legs. From his position, Al could barely see her anymore, only knowing where she was because he'd barely been able to follow her path. And once he shook off the abruptness of the whole thing, he couldn't stop himself from asking under his breath:

"Why does she _do_ that?"

He wasn't expecting an answer. Al was asking himself more than anything. But he did get one, however vague and monotone and completely unhelpful if may have been.

Edward shrugged. "I dunno."

When Al looked over, Winry was giving his brother a strange look, too. Obviously, she had captured the out of the ordinary moment as well. Then she looked over at Al, shrugging just as helpfully but more sincerely than his sibling. "Maybe she just doesn't like the rain. Den used to do the same thing as a puppy."

"Maybe…"

In part at least, Winry was probably right. Al though, was starting to resign to the concept that had been niggling at the back of his mind for some time now.

Macy would never, really be his.

Well, technically by word, Macy was his now, but only in that way. Al wasn't the one who had saved her, brought her back up to health, offered her a warm bed... Ed had done that deed. So maybe… _obviously_, to her he was someone she felt safe around, looked up to… was something of a hero figure. While Al and everyone else would tell others Macy was his, Macy had already chosen who she belonged to long before Ed had obtrusively passed her into his care. And that was something Al just could not top.

Not that he minded. In a way, he understood exactly how she felt.


	31. Tears

**Appreciation**

On a day like this it would be easy to think and dwell on the things she didn't have: a mother to argue over details with or to have fussing over her as much as sharing in the excitement, a father to walk her down and give her away, to tell her how proud he was of her and how much he loved her as they danced later that night.

It was easy to, and admittedly there had been a few times she had. She had shed a few tears; after all, what girl wouldn't on her wedding day? But they weren't to mourn over what she didn't have. As far as she was concerned she still had a part in _that_ promise to keep. They were happy tears, because remembering what she didn't have helped her to appreciate even _more_ what she _did _have.

She hugged him closer as they swayed in an easy circle.

"Winry...?"

Winry smiled into his ear, having caught the concern in his tone. "I'm fine."

"Then why are you crying?"

She almost wanted to laugh. Here she had thought he would understand. He was the more sentimental one anyway. But it was seeming that he could be just as blind as his brother sometimes. Not really a surprise if she thought about it; they _were _brothers, inevitably destined to inherit _some _of the same qualities.

"Because I'm happy you're here, Al."

Winry could only hope that he caught the deeper significance of her words, because she didn't think she could manage to explain it right now if he didn't. But when he held her closer and said, "so am I," she hardly had a doubt that he did.

She may have lost the chance to have a dance with her father, but at least she could still have one with her 'little brother'.

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Wasn't what you were expecting for the theme, was it? Me neither. But I was at a wedding last night and was inspired to make a moment for Al and Winry. All those traditional dances they do at receptions were making me tear up, so I thought I might try and share the joy.

Much gratitude if you choose to review. ;)


	32. Pen and Paper

Companion to _Waiting_: in which we witness the other side to Winry's long awaited letter.

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**Keeping It Simple**

The pen tapped against the wood rhythmically. Dim, orange light glowed on the dark walls. The clock ticked away the seconds. The crickets outside the open window chirped. Blank paper stayed flat and unscathed.

"ARGH!" Dropping the pen, Edward fell back in his chair and scrubbed at his face, rubbing his eyes and pushing up his bangs. He stared widely down at the sheet of paper on the wood desk. This was infuriating! It was just a letter. A stupid letter! And he couldn't even write a word!

A word!

Glancing over at the clock, it read a quarter to midnight. That did nothing to ease his frustration. It actually threatened to make it worse. Not only did he need to be getting to sleep, it meant that he'd spent the last thirty minutes trying to think of what to say—because this was his only sheet of paper, the only spare one he had left. And this was his last chance to write something before he left again. After that, it could be days...weeks until he had another opportunity to write home.

The longer he waited, the more it would hurt later on.

"But I don't know what to say!" came out as a mix of whine and exasperation.

Fists fell with a thump to either side of the blank sheet that Edward stared at narrowly, demanding with fierce eyes alone that it make words appear. His fingers stretched out, thrumming against the wood rhythmically.

Something beyond the edge of the ring of light drew his attention, having just caught it out of the corner of his eye. Realizing it was the thick envelope he had picked up earlier from the photo shop, his fingers slowly stopped tapping. After a moment's hesitation—he needed to stay focused!—Edward reached over and picked it up, taking a couple minutes to flip through them.

The pictures went back at least four months.

As though an afterthought, it occurred to him that he had another envelope in his suitcase from a few months before that.

And it took about ten seconds for him to acknowledge the idea slowly molding into his mind and scoot back the chair and search them out and bring them back to the table. It wasn't until he was halfway through skimming the older photos that a slow smile crept onto his face.

There was still the problem of what to write, though...

Nonetheless, more than an hour later Edward switched off the lamp and got into bed, feeling quite satisfied with himself and the sealed envelope sitting on the desk ready to go.

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_Winry,_

_I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. I'm leaving again tomorrow morning, so since I don't know when I'll get another chance, I wanted to send these to you. They are some pictures I've had taken to show you all the places I've been to the last few months. I'll tell you more about them later. I don't know when I'll be coming back, but I'll try to soon._

_Edward_

And right below that, next to a small dot of ink that had begun to bleed through the paper—a sign of hesitance—was a postscript with three words:

_P.S. I miss you._

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…Sounds like a good letter to me_. _I swear I had the hardest time not making it cheesy but still meaningful. I think I pulled it off. The rest…? Well that was easier. It was the only way I could see Ed handle letter writing.

But that's just what I think. Please review!


	33. Out Cold

Note ahead of time; this is taking place via transit from Central to Rush Valley...episode ten in Brotherhood. Sorry, I'm not sure where it is in the manga, but I'm hoping you know where I'm at anyway.

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**Wishes**

There came a point in time when it really hit how used to his condition he had become. Alphonse wasn't really sure when—defining specific days and times was difficult when they all seemed to stream together—but it certainly wasn't a pleasant notion to become aware of.

The nights were easier to deal with in the privacy of a guest or hotel room. He could freely occupy himself with reading or whatnot and not arouse suspicion in others. Trains on the other hand… While most passengers were sleeping, there were always a few who were not. Not to mention the attendants who strolled down the cars to make sure the passengers were comfortable. So maybe it wasn't too much of an abnormality to be awake on a train at night, but he already drew enough attention with his body. No need to draw anymore unnecessarily.

Every night made him wish it. But never as much as these frequent overnight trips did Alphonse wish so earnestly to be able to sleep again.

A side effect of living in a sleepless body when on these trips was how incredibly boring it got. There wasn't much in the means of scenery to see because it was too dark, so most of the time he was left in the company of his thoughts or watching his brother sleep. And while doing that could turn out to be amusing at times, Ed _was _sleeping. It wasn't like Al as watching a circus performance; he wasn't going to be entertained non-stop.

But this night was a different one. After all, it wasn't very often that Winry accompanied him and Ed on a train ride. Al was actually hard-pressed to think of a time before that she had traveled with them at all.

Edward had been the first to doze off comfortably into the corner, the side of his face pressed up against the wall and arm resting atop the booth. Winry wasn't so fortunate, although Al assumed it was because she just wasn't used to sleeping on trains. She was fidgety; and while he could safely say he couldn't relate, it didn't look all to relaxing the way her back bent so she could rest her head in her folded arms on the armrest. Maybe if she kicked her feet up...but there simply wasn't enough room with Ed sitting there.

Looking around, most of the booths in the car were empty. Although there were plenty of stops to be made before they reached Rush Valley, Al doubted that many more people were going to come on this late at night. He could sit in one of those until morning...

He was about to prod Winry awake and offer her his bench when she sat up of her own accord.

For a moment, Al thought she was actually awake, or had given up on trying to not be for the meantime. But the half-lidded eyes aimed at his direction didn't even seem to recognize he was there before they closed again and she laid back down, this time onto his brother's chest. Moments later she pulled up her legs and smiled contentedly.

Alphonse's eyes lighted up merrily, suddenly finding the offer he'd been about to propose more than unnecessary. But that wasn't the best part. The icing on the cake was seeing his brother's arm drape over her to hold her in place. Al knew they were out cold and far from aware of what he was seeing—Ed especially—but still.

This night, Al could only wish dearly for a mouth he could grin with and a camera; this was just too _sweet_.

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Hope you caught the double meaning in that last line there; Al and his mischievous ways... *shakes head with mocking disapproval*

I've been having a few restless nights lately but thanks to it—even if I do ardently wish for a good night's sleep again—this little bit popped up out of nowhere. Hope I was able to spread a few smiles. It would make _my _sleeplessness worth it.

Please leave a review! :)


	34. Tower

**A.N- **_Change of pace here. The final (as of this moment) and unexpected companion to the earlier themes _All That I Have _and _Memory _is here. __If you remember those then you're good to go._

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**Coming Back**

"_You've been moping around here too long, Winry; you need to snap out of it. You are going to take the next train out of here and I don't want you back until you've straightened up, hear me? Just because those boys are gone doesn't mean the world stops spinning. Until you've accepted that, I don't want you back in this house."_

"_But...I...Granny! I don't know where to go!"_

"_You better figure it out then. It's a fine time you start finding your own way."_

That moment with her grandmother hadn't been a pleasant ordeal. Winry was barely starting to manage coping with the loss of Edward and Alphonse, only to have her grandmother turn around and kick her out of her home not even two weeks after returning from Central. At the time it had seemed unnecessary and uncalled for. All Winry needed was time to wrap her head around it all; at least she had stubbornly thought so at the time.

In hindsight, though, Winry was able to realize that different eyes saw different things and that while it was a hard lesson to learn, Pinako had been right. Most of the problem was that she hadn't known what to do with herself anymore. Her grandmother's abrupt approach to the problem not only helped to solve that, but had given Winry something else to think about.

Five years later changed a lot of things. Winry had learned to get up and move on from the blows life liked to throw at her. It changed her view of herself, how she looked at things and how she reacted to them. After opening the front door earlier that night, Winry was suddenly eighteen again, forgetting how it was she had ever been able to do any of that.

It had been like one fluid rush nearly knocking her over. Suddenly her entire being was dependent on the brothers she loved so dearly. That princess tower she had tore down with Pinako's help held her captive once again. She had cried as though Ed and Al's very presence were her long awaited salvation, had kissed Edward like a naïve teenager caught up in one love-struck moment, had gladly accepted him back into her home, accepted his promise never to leave again. She had forgiven him. So easily, Winry was able to do all those things without calling into question every rational and legitimate reason she had not to.

It was reason to doubt whether she had really moved on at all, and heavy enough to keep her restless the remainder of the night.

...Of which it no longer was. Noticing the curious light of sunrise dimly brightening up her room, Winry resolved herself to roll out of bed and amble on downstairs to brew up some coffee. At least now she had a reason to be up and about and wouldn't have to flail around for an excuse to be walking around in the dark in the case she woke up one of the brothers. Once the coffee was done, she poured it out into a mug and headed outside, the hem of her robe flailing in the air behind her. Maybe some fresh morning air would ease her tired, racing mind before the day really got going.

Fate, or whatever you might call it, had a different idea. Winry nearly jumped out of her skin and spilled her coffee when she shut the door behind her.

Edward was already outside, slouching lazily at the small table set up on the porch, looking all the same as he had last night. That made her wonder until she remembered he and Al had come back with nothing but themselves and the clothes on their back. His hands were stuffed in his coat pockets and head tilted back, eyes were closed. Was he sleeping? If so, Winry didn't want to disturb him...

"Morning." He drawled out huskily.

That answered, Winry only hesitated a moment before seating herself in the chair across from him and softly returned the greeting. "Good morning." She sipped at her coffee and stared out at the western horizon.

"It's a little early, isn't it?" Ed inquired after a few moments.

"Hmm?" Winry turned her eyes back on him, mind slowly catching up. "Yea. Why?"

Edward opened an eye, looking over her quizzically. "Are you usually up this early?"

"Oh! No," She quickly shook her head. "Not unless I've been working all night." After a moment, she added quickly, "At least not usually. Sometimes, but not really." She brought the mug to her lips nervously, hoping to hide the light warmth in her cheeks. It really was too early to be talking; Winry was usually better at not embarrassing herself.

The corner of his mouth uplifted slightly, eye closing once again. "Hm, still not an early bird..."

"If I remember right, neither are you." She set down her coffee.

Edward sniffed bemusedly. "I just don't like mornings. There's a difference."

The absence of their light conversation allowed Winry the moment to realize just how nice it was to have someone closer than a client or Den that she could talk to. She missed it, and the longer nothing was said, the more that light, airy feeling ebbed away to the point of being a dream. Winry searched valiantly in her mind for something to say, but nothing more than questions—the important ones that she feared would only chase Ed away came to mind. With those, it didn't matter how much she wanted answers or thought she deserved to have them; Winry wasn't ready to set herself up for disappointment yet.

A pang in her chest; an old friendly enemy warning her that disappointment was most likely inevitable no matter how long she waited.

Winry shut her eyes tight against it. A lot could change in five...seven years. Look at herself; wasn't she testament to that? Edward must have changed too. In fact, she was sure of it. But it just seemed impossible that it could be in the way she was looking for. His track record made it seem so.

"What do you want?"

Winry's eyes widened, being caught out of her dreary train of thought. "What do you mean?"

He sighed and stared out to the mountainous horizon, where the skies were a deep periwinkle and the stars rapidly disappearing. "What you said last night; I told you I'd give you whatever you wanted, and all you said was to stay. That can't be all that you want."

Winry might have taken offense that he was so confident about his doubts if he weren't right. And she might have answered if her own doubts didn't silence her. Sure, Edward was finally _seeming_ to show some interest in her feelings and such in his own abrupt way, but still...

Edward took her hesitance as a cue to elaborate. "I meant what I said, Winry. You deserve a lot more than just that, I know it. But I can't do anything unless you let me."

He sounded so sincere, making it harder for her not to take that assurance for granted. "Can you be honest with me?" She finally gave in, fighting to keep a hold of herself. It was now or later, and the longer it took for Edward to answer the more she wished she had waited. The silence had her on edge, doing nothing for her nerve.

It was probably just as well that she was looking down at her folded hands, too. If not, Winry would have taken the look of guilt that had melted onto his face the wrong way. "I am." He said lowly, honestly.

Her jaw clenched. While it was nice, that wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"I knowthat. I knowyou mean it _right now_. But what about days or weeks from now?" Her voice lowered, almost to an angry whisper as she looked him straight in the eye. "Don't guarantee me things that may not be true. I can't let myself...I can't do that anymore, Edward."

Edward only stared back at her widely, his guilt slowly making itself prominent once again. Winry, looking away sharply as she hissed back the tears, wished them not to fall. What was wrong with her? All those years of pain and hurt feelings, pent up for so long... with those few sharp words Winry had finally let it go, let him see it all. And now she regretted it, because as much as she hated the answer, it she was afraid of being alone again.

_I never did move on, did I? All those years...just a lie, weren't they?_

That alone added even more fuel to the fire.

A gruff sound of resignation reached her ears before the chair across from her scratched against the boards and Edward got up. Winry could hear his footsteps echoing on the boards. She shut her eyes tight and stifled a sob, not even caring to acknowledge that he hadn't walked away yet.

"Almost four years ago..."

Winry's eyes opened wide, staring down at her lap before searching out the words' source. Edward was leaning over the railing, his back turned to her and head bowed, bangs concealing his eyes from her as he spoke, making him unreadable.

_He didn't leave? _Winry didn't acknowledge the bit of hope sparking within her.

"About four years ago," Edward began again, a bit more surely. "Me and Al came across this girl. It was completely by chance..not like we were looking for her or anything, I mean. Neither of us wanted to, even though we knew she existed…" He shook his head, clearing away his jumbled explanation and got right to the point. "She looked just like you. It shouldn't have been a surprise seeing her; it wasn't the first time we came across a double from this world. But that didn't change that it was. Her name was Winré. She was a waiter.

"All I could see when I saw her was you. But the only thing I _knew_ was that she _wasn't_ you."

Winry's heart beat a little faster in her chest, even more so when Edward turned around to look straight at her. It slowed when she finally took notice of just how _tired_ Edward looked, though. Something about it made the dull glow of hope dampen with guilt. Why, though? It seemed so obvious, if only she could see the bigger picture here. Had Winry not felt so frayed and tired...

"That's when I realized I needed to find a way back."

It took a few times repeating the line in her head, but it became clearer—

"I had given up until I saw her; you can even ask Al. He'll tell you the same thing. The only reason I'm here is because of a promise I made to you." Edward moved to sit back down beside her.

_Came back because of me. Spent all that time—found a way because of me...for me... _

"What promise?" The question was sudden, barely even thought out before leaving her mouth. Winry didn't remember any promises.

"There was a time, about six years ago..." Edward trailed off uncomfortably, his fingers beginning to drum nervously on the table. It was louder than usual, catching her attention, but that because he was doing it with his right hand. He suddenly stopped and breathed out heavily. "I promised myself that I'd find a way back home, back _here. _I would find Al and then we would come back home to you." He made a bitter sound of amusement. "It took me too long to figure out that more than just my brother and I had been affected by everything we've done. I mean, I knew, but I didn't really think about it until then. And after that...it was the least you deserved—that promise.

"I won't blame you if you can't accept it, though." He added, bowing his head and not meeting her eyes. "I wouldn't."

Winry was almost moved to tears again, not because she was upset but because she simply couldn't see herself not forgiving him. Idiot, didn't he have a clue? She may have had every single reason in the world not to, but still more daunting was letting him go. Winry couldn't do that. She couldn't before, and definitely not now; not after he had come back to her. Not now that he was trying to earn back her trust, trying to break down that tower that he'd built up between them. Edward was _trying _to do these things, and that was so much more than Winry had ever expected from him.

She reached across the table and laid her hand over his left one, catching his attention. She smiled gently, the tears brimming in her eyes.

"Winry?" He asked uncertainly.

"Just be honest with me, okay?"

His eyes narrowed confusedly. "...What...?"

"That's all I want, Ed. No more secrets."

When her clear request settled in, was ground through the gears she could see turning in his head, Edward offered her a small, tired smile and squeezed her hand back reassuringly. "Alright."

The sun ascended, marking the start of a new day. _A better day._

_._

_._

_._

**A.N. -**_ I think I got this right now after multiple rewrites and extensive editing. It took a while to figure out how exactly to say what I wanted to be said in a way that was believable, and I am really hoping this is it. The only place where I'm iffy about it is whether or not it was easy to follow; I know what's going on because I wrote it, but did I do well in putting into words...? Forgive me if I'm just over-thinking it. I tend to do that a lot.  
_

_Anyway, please review. They are nice to see in my inbox._


	35. Spiral

**Note: **It's been so long, I know. I'm sorry. College classes are keeping me busier than I thought they would. Anyway, I had originally abandoned the idea of this chapter a while back because it wasn't working out how I wanted it to. But after reading the coinciding chapters in the manga recently, my inspiration was renewed and is now much better than before.

**Summary:** Winry seeing the damage of the mine shaft collapse at Baschool on Ed.

**NEED TO KNOW: **set post-Promised Day, specifically, the day Ed and Al return to Resembool

**Warnings: **brief,minor language

**Disclaimer: **_Fullmetal Alchemist _rightfully belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. I'm merely toying with her creation.

**.**

**.**

**Scars**

An endless spiral. That was the best way to describe it. An endless, suffocating spiral that was making her mind spin. Her train of conscience was rushed and blurry, unable to focus on one point. And just like any merry-go-round at the park was supposed to do, it made the her stomach drop quite uncomfortably.

Winry swallowed and shook her head, but it hardly helped. No more than sitting cross-legged on her bed did. For sporadic moments it felt like she was floating outside of herself, lost in the sea of purple that were her blankets.

Normally she was good at keeping a hold of herself. She had gotten better at least, or liked to think she could. What was she was feeling now...it was for something that had happened months ago. Was gone and done with, nothing but a scar left of it.

But that was just it. There was a scar and it was damning to her active imagination. It hardly helped that the day had already left her emotionally exhausted.

Somehow, Winry was able to pull her eyes up even slightly. Amazingly, Ed was still in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. She had no way of knowing what he was thinking, both because she didn't think she could look him in the eye right now without breaking, nor was he letting her. All Winry could tell was that he had put his shirt back on, perhaps out of her benefit or, equally likely if not more so, to settle his own unease. Regardless, the flimsy cloth didn't stop her eyes from seeing right through it.

It hadn't even been necessary. There was no arm she needed to maintain or work on anymore. That much was obvious shirt or no. Winry could have gone on blissfully ignorant, at least for a while longer, if only she hadn't been so adamant on seeing how flesh and blood had replaced copper and steel.

Al had gone to bed hours ago, and Granny only just before Winry had dragged Ed upstairs so she could check up on what was left of his automail. That said, not only was it completely quiet in her room, but the entire house, which was making the stretched silence all the more stifling. And as long as nothing was said, the spiral would never end. Winry could only hope that she wouldn't be left to sleep on this, because despite all the good that had happened today—because of it, actually—it would be that much more difficult _to _get to sleep. There was too much to think about, too much to process, too much to accept...

It had been alarming when she saw the first scar. The shape of it caught her attention, as well as the size, but otherwise she was able to push the wariness aside. It was almost terrifying though, when she saw a matching second one on the other side.

Winry had never seen this scar..._these_ scars before, not before Briggs. The only reason she knew that was because that was the last time she'd done a full-out upgrade to Ed's automail. Undoubtedly, it meant that whatever had happened, it had happened after that time. And while she had no way of knowing for sure—

_...a mine shaft in Baschool collapsed..._

The only time blaring out at her was when he'd been missing. It was a niggle in the back of her mind brought to formation by the abrupt recall of a few nonchalant words of a monster. It made too much sense.

_Winry shook her head fervently, failing to dispel the fatalistic echo that had caused her so much worry in spite of the empty assurances. Empty, because without words, she knew just as well as Al that he was trying to convince her as much as himself of his brother's safety. _

_Of course it had to be that worry wouldn't be unwarranted. Since when were they ever that fortunate?_

_She reopened her eyes and looked again, hoping that just maybe, it had been her imagination. Of course, it wasn't. She closed her eyes and shuddered, breathing in then out slowly, almost tiredly, then let her forehead fall against his bare back._

_She needed to calm down._

"_Win—"_

"_I knew it was going to happen." She stated quickly, then laughed humorlessly, bitterly. "I knew it would, and every time you came back...when I went to you...I was always right. But it was bearable, because at least it wasn't **that** bad..."_

_Ed twisted his neck, trying to look back at her. He sounded wary. "What are you talking about?"_

_Winry was slow to answer, but eventually her hand drifted over the distinct, ugly scar on his left torso. She was hardly surprised when he stiffened under her. It was probably something he'd never wanted her to know about._

_She wished she never had to._

_Winry mustered herself up, both to speak and for the answer doing so might warrant._

"_I don't want to know what happened. Just...I heard what happened in the north, and the mine shaft. Is that what...?"_

_Just as her answer had been slow in coming, so was his. Maybe slower. A terse nod of the head. Then suddenly Ed was snatching up his shirt and standing up, taking a few steps away from her reach as he pulled the it back on over his head..._

"Winry."

She blinked and eventually brought her eyes up again, still not enough to look Ed in the face, but enough for him to know he had her attention. Apparently unsatisfied with that, he lifted up her chin. Not forcefully; Winry let him. Somehow, looking at him really wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, although it still made something inside her twinge.

He was concerned, firm, and maybe even a little relieved. For a moment she had to wonder why that last one, but belatedly she realized it was probably because she wasn't crying.

"I'm still here. Don't forget that."

Right. Through the muddled mess that her thoughts had become, that much at least dawned on her. The fear of the fatality that so severe an injury she knew those scars implied was, in fact, baseless. By some miracle—one she was more than willing to leave unknown and be forever grateful for...he _was_ still alive.

"I know." A small smile crept up her lips with the quiet acknowledgment, and Ed placed a comforting hand atop her head, letting her lean into his side.

Today was still the best day ever.


	36. Multitasking

**Notes: **I had planned to have this up a few days ago, but hey, better than never. I promise I'll have another update for this before the month is up, though. That's as far as I can assure, because I have the next one done already minus the edits.

**Summary: **Ed is overwhelmed by everything he has to do.

**Warnings: **Future!fic; possible spoiler for ch.108 family photo

**Disclaimer: **_Fullmetal Alchemist _rightfully belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. I'm merely toying with her creation.

**.**

**.**

**Many Things to Do**

"Could you also make lunch please?" Seeing the incredulous look on his face, Winry amended. "Just something simple like sandwiches. You don't have to use the oven."

His below average capability with kitchen appliances wasn't what Edward was looking at his wife incredibly for, though. Of course, it wasn't like he'd been expecting to spend his day off lounging around the house or holed up in his study, especially not when there was a four month old infant to look after and give attention to. But it hadn't even been nine yet before she was asking him to pick up some things from town. Now, no sooner than he'd gotten back with a couple of bags and son in tow, she was handing him a basket of clothes to hang on the line before making lunch, after which Winry wanted him to take out the weeds in the yard...all the while keeping an eye and taking care of the little boy currently content in his swing so that she could get her work done downstairs in the basement.

How many eyes and hands did she think he had?

Seeing that her recommendation hadn't appeased him, Winry said sharply, "What is it?"

"How the he—heck am I supposed to do all of that?"

The look Edward was rewarded with was of the most dubious nature, arms crossed and eyebrow raised as if that were the stupidest question ever. "_How_? You're asking me _how to do_ simple chores, seriously?"

He slapped and hand to his face and dragged it back down to his side. "No! That's not what...that's a lot to do!"

Now she only looked irritated. "And do you think I'm doing nothing here? I can't handle everything by myself, Ed."

"I know that—"

"Then what's your problem?"

Edward almost wanted to throw his hands up in the air and forget about it. Almost, but not quite. He was feeling particularly whiny and justified for it. "Don't I get a break?"

Winry narrowed her eyes. "Only when I do." She said brusquely, then turning on her heels she strode down the hall and pointedly shut the basement door behind her.

So he had to get over it? Edward was hardly regretful toward her vexation, especially after that. Staring balefully at down at the laundry basket at his feet, it hardly mattered that she may have been right on some level. After all, he could hardly imagine what it was like for her on the days when he wasn't home. But he wasn't about to go apologizing anytime soon. Eventually, but not now.

Easing the scowl off of his face, Ed tore his focus away from the pile of damp clothes and to his son, drowsily staring in his direction. As though the little boy had been waiting for his attention first, his head slumped to his shoulder and onto the blanket stuffed into either of his sides for support, fast asleep.

Edward sighed and grudgingly leaned over to pick up the basket. There was no point in wasting the duly awarded free time.


	37. Light

**Notes: **I'm having doubts. I feel like something's missing with this chapter but I have no way of knowing for sure because I've edited it so many times. And I said before that I'd update again before the end of the month, so here it is. It wasn't the one I was planning to post, but it's complimentary to that one (which will be next, no matter how long it takes).

**Summary: **Ed gets unexpected late night company.

**Warning: **Future!fic...again, ch. 108 spoilers

**Disclaimer: **I own absolutely, positively nothing. Period.

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**Little Distraction**

It was late enough in the night that his desk lamp was probably the only light on in the entire house. He wasn't bothering to check the exact time to ascertain that though, because he was eager enough to finish his quota of pages for the day and stumble off to bed like the rest of his family already had. Looking up at the clock might just nudge his resolve enough to stop where he was and give him more to finish tomorrow. Falling behind even once wasn't an option, though. Eventually it would come to pile up against him, and there _was_ a deadline he had to meet.

Edward was so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed the door creaking open behind him or the soft padding of socked feet on the wood floor. Ed hadn't heard either of these things until someone small tugged at the leg of his pants.

The act was subtle enough to startle him and he nearly dropped his pen. He tore his attention away from the black ink and white pages and down to the sunny blonde head and wide blue eyes staring anxiously up to him.

It was just his daughter.

His brow furrowed.

"What are you doing awake, Sara?"

The three year old's lip quivered and she held her blanket close to her face, whether for comfort or to try hiding her evident fear, he couldn't be sure. She also looked about ready to cry with her eyes all glossy, but didn't. Her answer was soft, voice shaky and smaller than she was.

"Bad dream." Before Ed could blink Sara was burying her face into his side and gripping down tightly at his shirt. Her eyes peered up at him pleadingly. "I wanna stay with you, Daddy. Please, I don' wanna go back to bed. I wanna stay where it's light."

Edward glanced back to the mess on his desk with a heavy sigh. There really was no two ways about it, but there still his resolve and logic squabbled with one another. At any other time of the day he wouldn't mind the company; it was easy enough to let her or her brothers set themselves up on the floor with some paper and coloring pencils. Now though, it was late and he was tired, and it was plainly obvious that his daughter wanted to be held.

Ed ran a hand over his eyes and rubbed them. "The things I do for you." He groaned out and reached down to pick her up under the arms. It would have be easy enough to say no and take her back down the hall. But the way she eagerly nestled herself against his chest, curled up deep in the crook of his left arm, and all around clung to his protection made the sacrifice worth it.

"You can stay until I'm done, but then you're going back to bed, alright?"

Sara's head nodded, but her mouth was twisted in a frown and she answered tightly. "Mm."

"What's wrong with that?"

It was a good thing there were no other noises, because for how long it took her to answer, Edward might not have known she had otherwise. "Don' wanna sleep. Bad dream."

Edward smiled and rubbed her arm reassuringly. "You're gonna be okay."

Only receiving a doubtful sniff in response, Ed turned back to the pages and books on his desk. Now with further incentive to stay up and finish, he picked his pen back up and stared at where he had left off, trying to gather back his train of thought.

It wasn't even seconds before he was once again immersed in the world written words and numbers and equations; a place where time flew and the greater part of his conscious attention was unaware that his daughter was still awake on his lap, peering peculiarly over the hasty scrawls he was writing out. Nevertheless, she voiced her curiosity just as he was about to turn over the page for the next one in line.

"What's that, Daddy?"

It took a moment for Edward to stop and reorient himself before recognizing what it was his daughter had found. She was pointing at a diagram of circles he had drawn out earlier that day, half hidden in the finished pile he had set aside.

"Transmutation circles, Sara."

She blinked first at them, then twisted her neck up toward him. "What's that?"

Ed sighed. There was no reason not to tell her; that wasn't the problem. He just really wanted to get done. "They're used for alchemy." When she blinked again, he thought of the simplest way to explain it to a three year old. "You can make a lot of different things with them."

She considered it, then brightened slightly with hesitant realization. "Like Mommy makes lots of foods in the kitchen?"

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Yea, something like that."

His approval made her smile. "Can you show me sometime?"

For such an innocent question, it served quite the bittersweet reminder of a fact he'd long since accepted and never looked back on. What made it so: that he couldn't answer it. Not with what she wanted to hear. Sara must have noticed his sad, apologetic smile, because it was obvious by her own disappointment that she realized this, too. He affirmed it with a shake of his head.

"Why?"

Something else he couldn't answer. Not this time, at least. That light wasn't meant to be shed quite yet.

Instead he tousled her hair. "You should ask your Uncle Al that next time he comes by, though. He can make things a lot better than me."

Sara looked at him critically, an eyebrow raised and lower lip protruding just slightly. Offhandedly, Edward remembered Winry commenting once that she got that from him, and that he would make that face when thinking about something that 'didn't seem right'. Even so, Sara was too young to comprehend what that feeling meant, and merely offered a heavy "hmph" before dropping back against his chest, pouting. "That's a long time."

Edward chuckled lightly at her antics. "Maybe." He agreed, before leaving a lingering kiss on the top of her head_. "_But the wait is worth it."


	38. Love

**Theme: **Love

**Notes: **I could leave a really long note explaining what took me so long, but I think we'd all rather just get to the story. I will say this, though: no matter how long it takes me to update in the future I will not abandon this or any other fic I post until it is complete. Feel free to leave requests, too. If there's anything you want to see ("anything" within reason) I will try and make it possible.

**Warning: **Curable(?) saccharine and fluff. Future-fic, no spoilers.

**Disclaimer: **Nothing used in this chapter belongs to me. Nothing.

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**Absolute**

"_...I, I just love you  
I don't know why, I just do  
When are you coming home?  
I'm coming home soon  
And I just love you too..."_

_~ **I Just Love You **_**by Five for Fighting **~

_The call had been early but that was only minutely surprising. They had, over the course of the month, set up a specific time period that she would call every two days, because long-distance was not cheap even if they weren't short on funds by any means. That he was being notified of a call on one of those two days **was **surprising, though. And worrisome; had something happened, what had happened? All the while pushing his way downstairs to the phones, he was trying to figure out the quickest way he could get back home._

_Trying to keep it together after picking up the line was almost for naught. "Hello?"_

_A pregnant silence kept him on his toes, and just as he was about to say it again he heard Winry's voice faintly in the background._

"_Hurry up, Sarah. You need to be getting to bed."_

_And just like that, he was at ease. Everything was okay. "Sarah...?"_

"_Hi," The voice was tiny and hesitant. Understandably, he supposed. She was only four; she had never used a phone before that he could remember. But why now? Why not wait?—not that he minded._

"_What are you doing awake? Shouldn't you be in bed?"_

"_Yes, but..."_

"_What is it?"_

"_I just—"_

"Dad?"

Edward shook himself from his reverie, back to where he was: the middle of a hotel's ballroom, amidst a decent crowd of friends and relatives and some he didn't even know, a piano piece beginning it's first chords just behind him, and most importantly, a little girl in white that looked so much like her mother.

No, not so little anymore. It was still something to grasp that that little girl was now grown up and _married_.

"Yea." He cleared his throat and forced composure as he offered his hand. She took it gently and drew herself to him so they could share their dance.

...At her wedding.

How had twenty three years gone by so quickly?

"_I—I just wanted to tell you that because Mommy said it was okay and I have to go to bed that I really miss you because you've been gone a long time and I just wanted to know when you're gonna be back home."_

_If he'd been having a bad day those words might have just thrown every bit of it out the window. Might have, because of the bit of guilt that still swallowed him for being gone. But he was still able to smile. _

"_I'll be home soon, kiddo."_

"_How soon?"_

"_A couple more weeks, Sarah. Can I talk to mom now?"_

_It was clear by the tint of disappointment toning her answer that she didn't want to go."Okay. But can I just tell you one more thing that I want to tell you?"_

"I love you."

Just like that time nearly twenty years ago, and every time before and between, hearing those words made him smile. And with that came the realization that twenty three more years would change a lot more things, but that, at least, he could rest assured, was the one thing that never would.

"Love you, too."


	39. Dying

**Theme: **Dying

**Notes: **This...this was thought up late at night at least a couple months ago, and was put into words a couple of weeks ago. It's not nearly as dismal as the theme would suggest, which is on purpose. I wanted to do something that wouldn't be sad for one that typically would be (would be easy to do, too). So get those tissues away from you—unless, of course, your sick or you have a tendency to laugh hysterically very easily. Also, if you didn't see it last chapter, I'm open to requests. If there's something you want to see I'll make a theme work with it..._well. _I just don't have a lot of time to spare to think up ideas, and there are some long projects I'm really wanting to get done, too. I'm not going to abandon anything I've already got started, but you're free to help me along if you like!

Enjoy!

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**Terminated**

"Ha! Yes!"

The triumphant cry was enough to rouse Winry's interest and walk her into the other room to see what was going on. She hadn't been paying much attention to what Ed was doing at the table when she passed by on her way to the kitchen to make lunch, but at the same time that was exactly why she was going to check.

How quickly things could change, you know?

"Ed?"

He looked back at her and grinned almost manically, which had she been most other people, might have scared her. As it was, it only made her slightly wary and she raised her eyebrow.

"I finally got it. Look!"

He was pointing at the center of the table, in the direction of a piece of meat she realized had probably come from the plate of bread crumbs that had once been a sandwich. As she stepped closer though, Winry noticed the twitching thing beside it was what he was so excited about.

A fly. An ordinary house fly. And he had killed it. Well, half killed it, anyway. It was still dying.

With a shake of her head she pat Ed on the head and walked away. "Clean it up."

Winry didn't need to see it; she knew without looking that his grin had slid off like like a wet bar of soap.

Now _that _made her smile.


	40. Horror

**Notes: **The subconscious is a scary thing sometimes, with the things it comes up with. The only that may be scarier is that I used it to write this.

**Warnings: **None, per say...

**Disclaimer: **Must I really? I think it's clearly obvious who owns what around here.

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**Unreal**

She had a front row seat.

Being stabbed in the back from the front. It didn't make any sense, but it was happening. Over and over, over and over, again and again. Arrows, of all things, with long rods that flew with a mind and sharp pointy edges that pierced through layers of cloth and skin like they were butter, sticking out like the quills of a porcupine. The sight alone made her squirm, made her stomach flip, made her want to cry.

Why, how...how could he still be conscious—not dying and completely aware, and stand being tortured with so much pain, piercing and slicing—she swallowed hard but uselessly—and be able to _see _it coming but be unable to do anything about it?

He reached back and pull some out...only to be replaced by a couple more.

She wanted to scream, to make it all _stop,_ but her throat was lodged and lips paralyzed. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't pry them apart, not even with her own fingers. He was looking at her, she could hear him saying her name so distantly. She wanted to reach out but couldn't...wanted to help, but couldn't, wanted to answer, but _couldn't. _She couldn't do _anything;_ only stare in wide eyed horror as her eyes filled to the brim with tears and shake her head emphatically, wishing madly that the repetitive torment would all _end._

_No, no, no! Stop! Why are you—stop! Doesn't deserve it! Stop...It hurts...Stop doing this—!_

"Winry!"

She startled awake, suddenly capable of doing all the things she couldn't.

"_Stop it! Ed!"_

"Winry," Her shoulder was grabbed, completely stilling her. "It's okay."

Winry looked up, disoriented until she realized she was on the couch. All she could see was him, gazing down at her, evidently distraught but more so concerned. Without so much as a thought and before he could say a word she threw herself at him, face burying into his neck and hands gripping at his back, the latter as though to soothe her subconscious fears.

It took a moment, but Ed did reciprocate the embrace, offering the extra comfort.

He spoke softly, understanding because she was hardly the first to have dreams like this; the question was more fact as he let her cling to him a little longer. "It must've been bad, huh?"

With a shuddering breath she eventually mumbled into his shoulder: "Yea."

But the truth was, nothing like that could steal him from her anymore, so it was okay.


	41. Breaking the Rules

**Theme: **Breaking the Rules

**Note: **Based off a picture that a link will be available for at the end. I have absolutely no clue what it's saying, but this works so well to make up for it. Enjoy!

**Warning: **Future!fic. Maybe a little OOC?

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**Discipline**

The knife melted into the pastry like it was warm butter, oozing out warm cinnamon-y goodness that made his mouth water. He wasn't supposed to be having any yet—it was meant for later—but it smelled too good to resist and he was hungry. Dinner wouldn't be for another hour or two and Winry was busy so she wouldn't notice until later. Then she could have his head; after he was full and satisfied.

The slice of apple pie slid out like nothing, the filling dripping onto his fingers as he place it on a plate. Getting a fork would be risky now, having forgotten in his eagerness to sneak the treat before being caught, so his fingers would have to do. Not that he cared; it all went down the same way regardless. It was in his mouth, hovering and waiting to finally be bitten down on, when a suspicious voice piped up beneath him.

"What're you doin'?" His own pair of eyes stared up at him, narrowed and with arms crossed.

Edward wasn't sure if he wanted to be amused by the irony that these roles should be reversed or annoyed that his son had caught him in the act. Reluctantly, he placed the cooling piece of pie back on the plate and glared back. "What?"

"You know what."

Rather bold little bugger, wasn't he, for three years old.

When Ed failed to respond promptly, Nick pointed an accusatory finger, crying out: "No pie before dinner! That's the rules!"

"I know the rules; I made them."

"Nuh-uh, Mommy did. And you're breakin' it! I'm telling!"

Before the tot could get away Edward grabbed the back of his shirt and turned him around.

"Hey—!"

Keeping his son in place, he bent down to his level, using his free hand to hold up two fingers. "Two things." Putting down one finger, "Watch your tone with me. You don't talk like that to either me or your mother. Second," And here he paused, wincing, because this was poor parenting on his part and if Winry caught wind, she'd not only have his head, but his leg as well. "If you keep quiet and don't tell your mom, I'll give you a piece."

Nick stilled. "Why?"

"Because I'm saying you can have one. Now do you want it or not, before I change my mind?"

"Yea!"

Letting him go, Ed stood back up and took the knife again, cutting out another thinner piece the boy. "Alright," he pulled the pie back before handing it over. "Remember, don't tell Mom."

"Right!"

"...And stay here. Try not to make a mess." With merely a nod Nick snatched the piece of apple pie from his hands and put it in his mouth.

Finally. Looking down upon his own untouched slice hungrily, Ed grabbed it and put it in his mouth before anything else could stop him.

It hit him before he could even bite down.

"Edward Elric! What the heck do you think you're doing?"

How the hell she expected him to respond _correctly_ after being nailed with a wrench in the cranium was beyond him, even if he knew what he was doing was wrong. And let's not forget that half the pie in his mouth had crumbled to a mess on the floor.

"Dammit, woman, are you trying to kill me? You nearly choked me!"

"That's what you get for getting into things you shouldn't." Winry stomped over, retrieving her wrench with the hand that wasn't carrying their one year old daughter and knocking him on the top of the head with it again. "And watch the language."

Edward groaned as he rubbed his aching head, noticing the anxious look on Nick's face as Winry turned her livid gaze down on him. Before she could say anything he cut in.

"It's my fault. He tried to stop me."

Winry turned back on him, the skirt of her dress twirling with the swift movement. The fury on her face mad him wince—or maybe it was the spike in his throbbing headache—but letting his son taking the full punishment wasn't exactly fair. Edward could admit to being wrong...when he knew he was, that is.

"I told him not to tell and gave it to him."

She was very quiet. He didn't have to see it—didn't really want to, either; he could almost literally feel it emanating from it, it was nearly choking. She was _ticked off._

"Clean it up." Winry demanded of him tersely, then turning back to Nick. "As for you...no more treats for the rest of the day or tomorrow."

"But—"

"Today, and, tomorrow."

And then she marched away.

Nick slumped to the floor, pulling away the remainder of the pie that had been held between his lips to reveal the pout that had formed upon punishment. Past the slowly receding pounding in his ears, Edward heard the small mumble: "Mean...not fair."

"No she's not." He pat the boy's head and sighed, slighted with guilt. "...she's not."

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**Afternote: **We can all understand lack of self-discipline, can't we? Just saying that because I'm a little wary of this chapter, although obviously not enough to not post it. All I wanted was to give a story to this picture (remove the spaces: **http:/ silent-amethyst. /10700. html**) and this is what came of it. Also, the ending; I like it, but when proofing it it almost felt incomplete. I fixed it very slightly, but I still...I'll just say I'd be dragging it out if I kept going. That's why it ends there.

Regardless, I hope it was enjoyable. :)


	42. Silence

**Anniversary**

Utter silence; it was a strange thing to wake up to even though he had been expecting it. There was that half moment or two when he thought he'd hear the familiar sound of his kids going about their morning anyway. Which wasn't to say the quiet was unwelcome, it was just different. The last time it had ever been like this…he didn't even know if there had been such a time before, at least for him. Someone was usually up already by the time he roused. The only reason Winry wasn't up and about was because she was still in bed.

Edward turned himself around, away from the morning light filtering through the partially closed curtains to look at the soundly sleeping woman beside him.

She didn't do it very often anymore, but since 'Uncle Al' had taken the kids off their hands for the weekend, Winry hadn't gotten to bed until sometime earlier that morning. Her reasoning had been that all she needed to finished was the hand she'd been working on all week, and then the rest of the weekend would be theirs. There was no telling what they would do with that free time yet, but the sooner she completed it, the sooner they'd figure it out. Half a memory was telling him that it had been sometime after three when she had stumbled into the room, so he assumed it safe to presume her project done. Given that, he could let her sleep for now. There was no rush and neither was he in a hurry to get on her bad side.

Ed pushed her fallen hair back away from her face, about half of which was pressed into the pillow, leaving unrevealed her just barely parted lips. She had one arm tucked around the feather filled casing and the other folded against her chest, hand held in an unclenched fist. On her finger, the band of silver decorated by a single, tiny precious gem glinted in the morning light. Despite her line of work, he'd never seen her took it off unless she absolutely had to; she always wore gloves and procedures didn't come up very often...maybe three times a year. So, nearly every day for seven years today: how long it had been since he put it there.

It wasn't for a few minutes longer until Edward turned back over and got up. He opened the drawer of his table, taking out the something he had carefully laid in there the night before. He hadn't intended to keep it a secret from her, but then, neither had he thought to get it until a few hours after she had departed to her workshop. Originally he had simply decided against interrupting her and chose to leave it out and let her find it on her own. It wasn't until he was about to get in bed that he was spurred into hiding it away and making sure she didn't know of it until she woke up, which she might not have anyway, but just for safe measure…

Walking quietly over to her side of the bed, Ed placed it before taking his leave. Breakfast wouldn't make itself and he was hungry. And he supposed for once he could surprise Winry with that, too.

_tbc..._

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Ahem. *cough, cough* Now that I've decided to come back after falling off the face of the planet…

No, I just got stuck on the next chapter. I don't want to update something without having something completed in line, so that's why it took so long to post this chapter (although it was quite tempting to anyway at times). That and I spent my summer side-tracked by multiple things of varying significance, writing obviously not one of them, which isn't to say I didn't try, it just wasn't working for me and I wasn't focused on this story/series. But here it is now, finally. Sorry the chapter was so short for the wait, but I hope it will be worth it.

Thanks for your patience and for reading! :)


	43. Words

**More than Words**

_This means something I don't tell you hardly enough._

The slip of paper, its rounded edge jagged and uneven, curled inward against her thumb. It had been rolled around the stem of the red rose she'd discovered beside her alarm clock.

Winry's head tilted and her bangs fell over her face, shadowing her eyes. A small, peculiar smile turned up the corners of her lips, and she let the paper roll back as she stood to wander out of the room and to the bottom floor of the empty home.

Finding him wasn't that hard.

Edward was sitting at the kitchen table reading, an empty plate and fork pushed away. He didn't react to her approaching footsteps, but when she slid her arms around him he didn't act at all surprised. He set his book down and twisted his neck to look up at her. "Morning."

Winry twirled the rose in front of his face. "Good morning to you, too."

"I see you found it." Ed grinned as he grabbed it from her.

"I did. And your 'cryptic' message along with it." She came around to sit on his lap, looking at him pointedly as she laced her fingers behind his neck.

"And…?"

"Isn't that what you're supposed to be telling me?" Winry teased, but being serious all the same. Her head tilted and eyebrow rose artfully. "Hmm?"

Ed didn't say anything at first, only stared carefully into the flower he was holding between them, and then at her. She could honestly say the times were few and far in between when any sort of attention he gave her made her blush and want to look away shyly like some crushing teenage girl. The passion held behind those burning golden eyes sometimes made it hard not to melt. At this moment, they affected her so much more than the few words defining them ever could do alone. Those words…

"I love you."

...he didn't say them often, but it showed how much he meant them.

"I know." She murmured back, sealing it with a kiss.

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I started back at school last week, so I can't say how long it will be until the next update. Not nearly as long as the last one, I hope. I'll try my hardest not to make you (or me) wait that long.

Hope you liked the surprise. It was nothing extravagant, but it was simple and sweet enough to get the point across. And just a fun note (which is the origin for this and the last chapter), in the flower language, a single red rose in full bloom means "I love you, forever." XD


	44. Last Hope

**Promises**

They would be leaving Asbeck come morning, breaking up and going separate ways until the time came to meet again. Mei would be taking Envy to back to Xing with her, Scar and Dr. Marcoh would be going their own way, and he, along with Winry, the two chimeras, and Yoki were going to head on to Liore; which wasn't to say he _wanted_ to go to Liore, exactly. He had only chosen to go there because it was the right thing to do.

What Al wantedwas to go back to Baschool. He _wanted _to find his brother. But they were in enough danger as it was being off the radar. Putting him and the others back on it—especially Winry—would make things substantially more dangerous for everyone, and that wouldn't be fair. It would be a total disregard to his foremost obligations: protecting Winry and progressing towards their goal. That was most important. It was what Ed would want him to do; Al had to keep reminding himself.

(_"I decided to get back my body no matter what, but if people have to die for me because of that—"_)

His sentiment still stood, especially now, terrifyingly so. What if his body _was _dependent on Ed's well-being? Were those lapses to the Gate just coincidence, or was it his body's survival mode kicking in? Logically he should have been more concerned about what was happening to him, but with Envy's revelation…

They had started this journey together. That was the only way they could **really** finish it.

If, indeed there was that sort of connection between them, at least there was _some_ solace in the fact that he was still alive here, as opposed to the ether. But that alone didn't exactly guarantee something bad hadn't happened to his brother, though, just because he wasn't dead. Neither was it too late for that to happen, either.

Al wasn't so selfish to think he was the only one worried inside out about Ed. Watching Winry shift again on the floor next to him, finally giving up in feigning sleep in favor of sitting with her legs folded to her chest, chin nestled between her knees, and blanket cinched together where she was holding it in place around her—thinking about how she felt made him feel worse. Was this something of what it was like for her, waiting at home for a word from them, not knowing where another day had taken them or gotten them into, of whether they were still okay or not? Only recently had he come to respect that role she held—shortly after finding out about Mr. Hughes, when neither he nor Ed were sure what to do anymore—but now even that was being recognized from a completely different perspective. He could empathize, and he hated it. He hated feeling so helpless.

He always knew she was a strong person at heart. It was humbling to finally realize exactly how much, though.

"Al…"

Winry wasn't looking at him, rather watching the burning embers helping keep the shack somewhat warmer. That didn't mean he couldn't see the glimmer in her eyes or hear the hesitance in her voice. It looked like she wanted to cry, even though he knew she wouldn't...for the same reason he wasn't going back. But for a moment it made Al wonder if maybe being helpless _and_ in the middle of everything was worse than just not knowing. At least then you could pretend, right?

"Yeah, Winry?"

A sharp intake of breath, as though she were second-guessing what she had wanted to say. "How—" She pulled the blanket tighter. "How are you not going back?" The question was curious and quiet, tight and accented with anxiety, but above all, seeking reassurance.

"Brother never breaks his promises."

Winry nodded her head as if that were something she'd been thinking all along and for a moment buries her face inside her blanket, wiping at her eyes and reappearing with a wistful "yeah" and then "okay." She leaned her head against his arm and silently continued to watch the fire with him; once the night was over, those promises were the last hope they had.

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**A.N. **Sorry, I've been…distracted, busy, whatnot. I had a chapter I was going to post before this, but this was already done and I'm still figuring out how to re-finish the other one. Whenever it is finished, there will be another update. After that, it's up in the air. Like I said, I've been distracted by…another anime (you may note the new icon pic for proof). Aaaannnyway…

This chapter went through a few rewrites. Originally I was insisting this be written from Winry's point of view (1st person, 2nd person) but it just wasn't giving me what I wanted. I wanted to see her worried, but I also wanted to see what Al was thinking about this whole situation. I was pleasantly surprised once I figured out to write this from his perspective. It was actually kind of heart wrenching. I can only hope I got some of that across to you. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed.

Until next time…whenever that may be. ;)


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